The Only One to Break Dean Winchester's Heart
by warrior of camp half-blood
Summary: The brothers go to a bar one night to unwind and meet a college girl named Abigail; from the beginning she and Dean hit it off. But their meeting is more than coincidence when on a hunt the Winchesters bump into her again. And again. Coincidence isn't real in the Winchester world.
1. Chapter 1

**Ladies and gentlemen... I present to you... an incredible tale of adventure, suspense, romance, loyalty and family! The first chapters are inspired by Cole Swindell's song "Middle of a Memory". After that, the story took a life of its own.**

 _Baby, it just took one look at you_

 _For me to change my one drink order to two_

 _Like we already knew each other_

 _Like we've been talking all night_

 _About a minute into our first dance_

 _We got blindsided by your friends_

 _All in a hurry like you had to go_

 _Didn't they know you can't leave someone_

 _Girl, you can't leave someone_

 _In the middle of a dance floor all alone_

 _In the middle of an old school country song_

 _Right when I was just about to lean on in_

 _Why'd you have to go then?_

 _Baby, in the middle of the glow of the neon light_

 _It shoulda, coulda, woulda been the night of our lives_

 _Girl, it ain't right, no_

 _How you gonna leave me right in the middle of a memory?_

 _We were gonna dance 'till they shut it down_

 _People'd be staring while I spin you 'round_

 _Thinking we were so in love, yeah_

 _They wouldn't know we hadn't even hooked up_

 _I'd get your number and I'd give you mine_

 _And we'd be hanging out tomorrow night_

 _But now I don't know where you are_

 _I'm under these lights right here in the dark_

 _In the middle of a dance floor all alone_

 _In the middle of an old school country song_

 _Right when I was just about to lean on in_

 _Why'd you have to go then?_

 _Baby, in the middle of the glow of the neon light_

 _It shoulda, coulda, woulda been the night of our lives_

 _Girl, it ain't right, no_

 _How you gonna leave me in the middle of a memory? yeah_

 _Yeah, it's like you walked right out in the middle of a movie_

 _Tore the back half out of a book_

 _And no, you'll never know, girl, what you did to me_

 _It ain't right saying goodbye…_

 _Middle of a Memory by Cole Swindell_

She waved to her three friends as they headed to the dance floor then turned back around to the bar. She was not in the mood for dancing now. All she wanted to do was sip her drink, people watch, and get lost in her own thoughts. Her friends had invited her out for "happy hour" and she accepted for the sake of having nothing else to do. She had even finished all the work from her classes, something that rarely occurred.

Two men sauntered to the bar and took seats. Individually they were both head turners but together people ogled over the beauty God had graced them with. One was enormously tall with shaggy brown hair and carried himself proudly. The other, as tall as he was, appeared dwarf-like in his companion's shadow. He wore a leather jacket that had seen better days, boots, and jeans stiff though the legs but obviously well-worn. Both men sported plaid shirts.

The one wearing the leather jacket sighed heavily. "Come on, Sammy, lighten up a bit. You're ruining my good mood." He slapped the other on the shoulder and glanced over. He was slightly surprised to find that the woman a few seats down was looking their way. Her hazel eyes were clouded and unfocused, though.

The lone woman at the counter noticed the new arrivals but did not pay much mind. That is, until she came out of her daydream and realized she had been absently staring at them.

He turned back as the one named Sam complained, "We should be investigating the house or doing research, not sitting in a bar."

"Nobody is forcing you to stay." The one in a leather jacket shot a look sideways to find the woman's eyes now sharp with focus. He winked, causing her to blush and avert her eyes. She was pretty, with black shoulder-length hair pulled into a loose pony, dark skin no spray tan could quite perfect. A liveliness he so rarely saw danced through her eyes. But there was sullenness to her as well.

"Now correct me if I'm wrong but I thought Fridays were for happy night. Sweetheart, you don't strike me as particularly happy," he said.

She smiled slightly. "I suppose I have a lot on my mind."

"Don't we all," he grinned. He motioned the bar tender over to take his and his companion's orders. Once the bartender left, his attention reverted back to her. "Don't tell me a pretty lady like you is out alone on a Friday night."

"No, I almost stayed home tonight, but I'm here with some girlfriends," she motioned to the dance floor pulsing with music and moving bodies.

"What, can't dance?" he teased.

"I will have you know I was on the varsity dance team in high school and was offered a full-ride scholarship," she haughtily said in defense. His eyebrow rose as his eyes scanned her tall yet lean figure.

"Of course you were. Not many can naturally be that sexy." She hid her smile behind the rim of her glass.

The bartender returned and set two beers down before the men. The one carrying on the conversation asked, "what do you want, Sweetheart?" She shook her head and insisted she was fine but he persisted. Giving up she requested a beer.

"Don't think this means I'll sleep with you," she warned.

He smirked and her knees grew weak. "Whatever you say, Sweetheart."

"My name is Abigail."

"That's a nice name."

"Thanks, I hate it. It sounds like an old grandma's name." He laughed at that, a deep sound that came from his chest.

"Dean," he replied. It suited him wonderfully.

"Are you from around here?"

"Nah; my partner Sammy and I—" the other man glanced over at the mention of his name—"are passing through."

"Oh, that's a shame," she hid her disappointment behind a teasing smile. She then realized what he said. "Partner? You mean like—?"

Dean's eyes widened. "No! We're FBI," he quickly explained, waving his arms to ward off any more assumptions. Sam smirked to himself. His "partner" should really choose his words more carefully.

To answer Dean's following question Abigail said how she was a student at the college in town. "I get my bachelors degree at the end of the semester," she proudly stated. She had always worked hard in school and was finally receiving the payoff.

They continued to talk for the next several hours, slowly drawing nearer to one another. Dean left Sam and came to sit on the stool beside her. Abigail's friends came back to refill on their drinks but quickly found a different table to sit at noticing how engrossed in conversation they were.

"What would two incredibly handsome FBI agents be doing in this small town?" she propped an elbow against the bar. Dean leaned forward. He smelled like leather and cologne and beer. His eyes traveled over her face.

"If I told you it would kill your buzz," he said in a rumbling voice. She sat back slightly irked. That was the second time he had refused to tell her something. It was killing her. She was intrigued by this mysterious man in leather. He did not strike her as a law-enforcing man but at the same time he had a certain look that suggested he had seen plenty.

"Tell me something about you and I might spill," he smirked. Oh if he had any idea what he was asking… but she would sound completely nuts if she told him the part-time job she worked, for instance. At least, that is how she considered it. It sounded less dangerous that way.

Tipping the last contents of the glass down her throat she stood. He watched her with keen interest. "Are you ready for your dance lesson? I am going to show you just how good of a dancer I am." His face lit up. Leaving Sam observing them with a small knowing smile, she reached for his hand and led him away.

"A bit cocky, are we?"

"You just wait and see, mister."

Abigail was an incredible dancer, Dean had to admit. Her limbs knew just what to do; her hips swiveled effortlessly; she absolutely flowed with the music. The power of her muscles was not noticed while they were sitting; her entire body was ripped—more so than one would expect for a dancer.

He understood that he was staring and shook himself out of it. She was just another girl in another town, he had to remind himself. But that didn't stop him from having some fun anyways.

Dean would spin her in circles then pull her in again and she would flit out of his reach; they would play a cat-and-mouse game, though he was not sure who was the cat was and who was the mouse. Neither of them noticed how people paused to watch them. Sam saw, though, how the two of them seemed to mold perfectly to the other. If nobody knew any better, they would assume the two of them were deeply in love and had not met less than mere hours ago.

Sliding around him Abigail murmured in his ear, "I never have met a man quite like you, Dean. There is something about you I cannot put my finger on; it infuriates me." She draped her arms over his shoulders, crossing them over his chest.

He glanced back at her. "I could say the same thing about you." Grabbing her hand he twirled her around to the front. A laugh escaped her lips as he spun her around to draw her close. The sound filled him to the toes. His arms folded around her stomach, her back pressed against his broad chest. She was perfectly content to stay this way for as long as time permitted. It must have been the buzz, for even her friends were surprised at how comfortable she appeared with a total stranger. This was a new side of Abigail few had the opportunity to witness before.

"Dean, what is your last name?" He hesitated for such a time she thought he was not going to answer.

Then, softly he rumbled, "Winchester. Dean Winchester" and the vibration could be felt on her back.

Something about Dean caused a flurry inside of her when he smiled or called her "sweetheart"—even though he probably said that to all the girls. That thought sent a jolt through her system. By morning he would be long gone, just a faint memory in this town. No one here would even remember him. But she would. Right there she swore to never let the memory of Dean Winchester fade.

She turned around in his arms to face him. His green eyes latched onto hers, momentarily causing her breath to catch in her throat. Whatever words she was going to say died on her tongue—they completely evaporated from her mind. Dean licked his lips, eyes trailing to the lower portion of her face.

Suddenly her friends pressed around them speaking over one another and gesturing. A very tall redhead, looking like she might pass out or vomit any second, was leaning heavily against a smaller brunette. Instantly the spell was broken.

"Lindsey is having a hard time holding her liquor," the petite woman motioned to the one she was supporting. "We should head out." Abigail forced her gaze away from Dean. She processed the woman's words in the back of her mind but made no move to do anything about her friends other than ignore them.

"Abby, we have to leave now," a blond girl—Sidney— drawled. As if seeing him for the first time her focus flickered to Dean. "Oh… well make it fast." Then she excused herself and ushered the other two to the door. It was hard to tell who was keeping who upright, though.

"I-I," Abigail stammered looking around for words written on the walls that would help. "I am so sorry. I need to leave. I'm sorry." She was close to tears.

"Your friends can take care of themselves—they are adults," he protested.

"No, they really can't. I have to make sure they get home safely."

"Wait," Dean caught her hand. "You can't just run out on me like that." She looked into his green eyes with wet ones. Reaching up she pressed a kiss to his cheek, holding his face with her free hand. As she turned to leave their clasped hands fell apart, fingers still reaching out to the other person.

"Find me around town," she suggested. Dean saw her blond friend loop their arms together and speak in giggled words. Abigail turned back and met his gaze one last time before stepping out into the dark night. Then she was gone.

Dean was left standing in the same spot staring at the door.

Why did she have to leave? He kept asking himself. The kiss she gave him replayed in his mind. I never even got her number, he realized. Or her last name. He wanted to bash his head into a wall. It would hurt less than what he felt inside.

Sam appeared at his side. "Hey, man, I think we should get goin'." He had seen it all: from the look on his brother's face as the two of them danced to her untimely departure. Dean silently nodded and followed Sam to the Impala. The drive back to the motel was silent save for the radio in the background. Sam was nodding off and jerked straight in his seat when Dean's palm slammed into the steering wheel.

"Sammy! You can't trust women!"

"She was really something special, huh?" Sam prompted quietly.

"Hell yeah she was. And I let her slip right through my fingers."

 **I hope you enjoy!**


	2. Chapter 2

**This is the second part to the first chapter, which I suppose can also be called chapter 2 now that I think about it. Hope you enjoy!**

Abigail was silent driving home despite the chatter that continued around her. Her physical focus was on the road. Mentally, she was still in the arms of Dean Winchester. She was furious to have been pulled away. For the first time in a while she had truly enjoyed herself. But Sidney just had to go and remind her that their friends needed to get home and it was getting late anyways and tug on the selfless, loyal part of her, forcing her to abandon the selfish part of her on the dance floor.

"Abs, why are you so quiet? Is it because we pulled you away from your boyfriend?" Lindsey prodded her shoulder.

"He's not my boyfriend," she responded automatically.

"Yeah, and I'm the Wicked Witch of the West. Come on, we all saw you two hanging on each other," the brown haired woman, Morgan, teased, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

Sidney slurred, "You were going to leave and break his heart anyways, just like every other guy that falls for you. Admit it, we did you a favor."

"No, I would not." But the uncertainty wiggled into Abigail's voice. "He was different than the rest of them," she said more for herself than anyone else in the car. The other girls shared glances. The rest of the ride to drop everyone else off was silent. After making sure Lindsey and Morgan got inside the remaining two women pulled up outside their apartment complex.

"Aren't you coming in?" Sidney frowned as Abigail stayed in the car.

"Go on in, I'll be there in a minute."

Sidney hesitated before leaving Abigail alone in the car. Abigail leaned back against the headrest with her lips pursed. It was too hard to keep the façade up any longer: the tears started to fall and she swiped at her cheeks half-heartedly.

* * *

The next night Abby could be found in the same bar. She swirled the remains of her drink about the bottom of the glass. The clock on the wall read five 'till ten. It was getting late. If he was coming he would have shown by now. What were the chances of him actually showing up?

"Hey, beautiful, can I buy you a drink?" She turned around to find a man standing uncomfortably close. He had blond hair, linebacker build, a self-confident smirk and smelled of too much cologne.

"No, thanks," she said politely, hoping he would get the hint. Unfortunately, he did not.

"Are you sure?"

"I was planning on leaving soon," she tried to be nice about it.

"What a shame. A pretty girl shouldn't be alone. Let me walk you out, then," he held out his hand. She stared up at him with a look of hidden revulsion. How typical. Abigail leaned away as he came closer to her. "What's the matter? Afraid of the night?"

"No, I'm more afraid of what happens to men who try to take advantage of women." His alcohol-infused brain took a moment to process her answer. As he did his eyes narrowed.

"I would mind my tongue, Sweetheart." She lifted her chin defiantly and stared into his eye.

"What are you going to do about it?"

His response was cut off when somebody said from behind her, "Babe is this man giving you problems?" She whirled around to find a much more attractive man standing behind her. He wore a leather jacket with jeans. His hair was tousled in an extremely hot way.

She managed to swallow and a "Dean" stumbled from her lips. He winked at her in a way that cleared her worries.

"Is everything all right?" he asked again. She turned back to the other man.

"I don't know. Is everything alright?" He glanced between the two of them, the not-so-stranger's hand resting lightly on her shoulder. The firmness of him helped solidify in her mind that he was in fact real.

"Yeah, peachy," he growled, sauntering away from the glare of her rescuer. A moment of silence filled the gap that he left behind. She _had_ to say something before he left but couldn't clear her throat enough to speak. Abigail could not believe who was in front of her. Finally words were able to work around the lump in the back of her throat.

"Thank you."

"Sweetheart, it was my pleasure."

The tension released instantly. Various mixed emotions from the past twenty-four hours faded away from both parties. All day Dean had been unable to get Abigail out of his head—while interviewing witnesses, researching, eating a bacon cheeseburger. He had been sitting in the motel room staring at the same page in Dad's journal for twenty minutes when Sam groaned and closed his laptop.

"Come on, man. Go see if she's there tonight," Sam urged.

"What are the chances of her actually showing up," Dean grumbled.

Sam sighed at his brother's pessimism. "She told you to find her last night before she left. Just go check it out. Maybe a drink will make you feel better."

Dean debated for another few minutes. Eventually coming to a decision he shoved his arms through his jacket sleeves and headed out the door. "I'll be back later." And here he was. _Bless Sam and his persistence._

He pulled away a bit and ran his hands down her arms. "Where did you go last night?"

"Oh, Dean, I am so sorry. My friends were getting drunk and I had to take them home, then—" he cut her off.

"Don't you ever walk out on me like that again, Sweetheart," he growled.

"So does that mean you plan on staying a bit longer?" she asked, the hopefulness inking into her voice.

He leaned his forehead on hers. "That depends. Do you want me around?"

"Yes."


	3. Chapter 3

Abigail pulled up in front of the two story house with paint peeling and rotting boards on the porch. She parked under the cover of trees off to the side of the crescent drive. Armed with her revolver, flashlight, extra salt rounds, and trusty crowbar she ascended the steps. The front door swung open at the turn of the handle. Abby crept down the entry hall and peered into the family room, then kitchen, dining room, closets. Besides the house being fifty some years old, nothing appeared out of the ordinary. But there was something wrong here: teenagers hoping for a night of adventure had gone missing from this house too many times for it to simply be a coincidence.

As she was peering out a grimy window into the backyard full of overgrown hedges and weeds the roar of an engine was heard outside. She slipped up the stairs as quietly as a cat and proceeded to check the bedrooms. She needed to finish searching this house before whoever was outside discovered her. It would be fewer questions asked and fewer stories she had to weave. She didn't much like lying.

The front door opened with the same creak it did for her; she swept the first two rooms in the time it took the other party to reach the stairs. There was the sound of footsteps coming to the second level of the house. She ducked into the nearest doorway and hunched in the shadows. Whomever it was moved quietly but Abigail could tell it was a man from the heavy footfalls. They paused at the landing then turned right, moving away. She waited until they could not be heard anymore before standing up. Abigail needed to move fast and get out of here. The next room was empty as well. As she turned to leave the door clicked shut. The knob wouldn't turn.

A chill settled over the room and she stiffened. Whipping around she wielded the crowbar. A young woman in a white ankle-length nightgown was in the middle of the floor. She didn't appear threatening but Abigail wasn't taking any chances. "Help me," the woman rasped.

As she raised the crowbar and began advancing, the woman flickered. Suddenly she was standing directly before her. Abigail was thrown against the wall, her weapon clattering away. Her hands wrapped around the gun in her waistband and she pulled it out. Just as her finger was about to squeeze the trigger the door banged open. Dean froze as his green eyes met hers. "Abigail?"

She was completely caught off-guard. "Dean?"

"Watch out!" he yelled as the ghost used her distraction to wrap its hands around her throat. One shot was fired in the middle of the chest and the ghost disappeared. Dean stood there with smoking shotgun raised a moment longer. When she coughed he dropped to his knees beside Abby. Groaning she hoisted herself up, Dean's hand on her bicep.

"Dean, what are you doing here?"

"The same thing you appear to be doing."

"I'm on a case."

"So am I."

Sam then hurried into the room, also armed with a shotgun. He skidded to a halt at the sight of her. "Abigail?"

She rubbed her throat and faced both boys. "We have a lot to talk about."


	4. Chapter 4

The three hunters sat around a table in a cheap bar-b-que diner. Setting down her cup of coffee she started, "I take it you two aren't FBI agents. That was a nice cover story, though," she admitted.

"No, we're not. And are you really a college student?"

"Yes, I am. I only take on cases that are within a close proximity."

"You're a hunter," Dean said it more like a question than a fact. He still was having a hard time wrapping his head around that. Sometimes things were too peculiar to be coincidental, even though he didn't believe in fate.

"Yep, born and raised in a hunting family. My parents have been hunters for as long as I can remember; of course, they never wanted me to be one." Dean shook his head. This explained so much.

"Our dad raised us in the 'family business' too," Sam explained.

"Small world isn't it?" she chuckled. "I've heard your names floating around once or twice but it never clicked. Ellen has mentioned the Winchester boys before."

"You know Ellen?" Sam asked in surprise.

She nodded. "Our families have history together. Jo is practically my sister."

Dean leaned back. It really was a small world. He didn't say much else the rest of the meal besides the occasional question or comment, then would fall silent again. The gears in his head were spinning to process everything that he was hearing. It seemed a waste for such a bright, pretty woman to be involved in their profession. Dean and Sam sure, but not Abigail. She was too innocent for this line of work.

Sam and Abigail had moved on to discussing the current case. She was in the middle of explaining a legend about a family that had previously resided in that house. One night while the dad was away for a business trip thieves broke in and drug the mom and three kids out of their beds. The mom had to watch while her children were killed before her eyes. She was tied to a kitchen chair and the thieves ransacked the house. Before leaving they slit her throat. When the father got home he went crazy with grief and hung himself less than two months later.

"So it sounds like we're dealing with a vengeful ghost," Sam concluded. "All we need to do is salt and burn the bones."

"It won't be that easy," Abby sighed, "I already tried to. When I dug up the mother's grave some other hunters had already done that; looks like she had been terrorizing people about twenty years earlier."

"Maybe a piece of hair has been left behind," he offered. Abby conceded, though she was doubtful.

After their meal the three of them returned to the house. They split up, Sam taking upstairs, Dean the front of the house and Abby the rear part.

Dean's flashlight beam grazed over a family portrait hanging in the living room. He stopped, doing a double take and eyeing it more closely. He called, "Hey, Abigail, com'ere." She appeared at his shoulder a moment later. "Isn't that the one who attacked you?" He was referring to the girl standing to the right of the father and behind the mother's chair.

She frowned at the picture before nodding. "Yes, the woman in the back row. I think she was the oldest daughter. We've been searching for the wrong remains."

Dean called Sam over and explained their new lead. "I suppose the daughter wants revenge for her killing."

"Then let's head over to the cemetery."

* * *

They alternated digging, one person holding the flashlight while the other two tossed dirt onto the growing pile. The headstones stood as silent guards under the dark sky. When Sam's shovel knocked against something solid they brushed the remaining dirt away to reveal a wooden coffin. Dean poured salt over the bones and Abigail came after with the gasoline.

Dean flicked open his lighter. "Hasta la vista." Something caught his eye and he glanced up to Sam leaning on the shovel on the opposite side of the grave. A ghostly figure in a white nightgown was standing behind him.

"Sam, behind you!" Sam turned in time to be thrown backward, landing several yards away. When Dean tried firing at the ghost she reappeared behind Abigail, tossing her like a rag doll into the hole. Abby landed with a hard thud in the coffin. The lid snapped shut.

"Abigail!" Dean yelled from above.

"No, no let me out of here!" she screamed banging on the lid. Her nose burned from the stench of decay and gasoline emanating from directly below her. It was all she could do to keep from gagging. The scuffle could be heard above. "Stupid ghosts, I hate them," she grumbled, fumbling around in the dark. Her fingers connected with the femur bone and she pounded on the top. After several thrusts she broke a hole in the rotting wood through which she was able to claw her way out. Gasping for fresh air she dug the lighter out of her pocket. The bone in her hand was lit and dropped into the remains. There was a screech as the ghost disappeared.

Only then did she realize she had nowhere to go while a fire burned around her.

"Abigail?" Dean's head poked over the edge of the hole. She let out a sigh of relief.

"I'm good, help me out." He quickly pulled her up and the two stumbled away. The boys weren't too bad—they would have a few bruises and scrapes tomorrow. Examining herself Abby found that she was in pretty good condition, too. But the smell was still in her nose.

"Let's get out of here; I need to change my clothes," she said and led the way back to the car, Winchester brothers in pursuit.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hope you enjoy this! I am still trying to decide where in the series this takes place; hopefully I will figure it out quickly. Please review!**

The next morning the trunk of the Impala closed shut with finality. The three hunters were standing in the parking lot of the cheapest motel in town. This was inevitable but that still did not make it any easier on anyone.

Dean stared into Abigail's eyes and offered with sincerity, "Come with us."

She hesitated, mouth drawing into a tight line. After a minute she shook her head. "I can't. Maybe one day I'll be helping you guys solve cases but not now." Dean swallowed the pain of being rejected. It hurt to hear her say that. He felt like a small portion of his soul had been cut out. But if that was what she wanted, then he would do everything to make sure that happened. He chastised himself for being so selfish. Abby didn't deserve to live her life the way he and Sam did. She had something good going for her here.

"No, you're right; you should stay in school and get your degree. It was stupid of me to offer."

"Dean—"

"Nah, don't worry about it," one side of his lip pulled up but the smile didn't reach his green eyes.

Abby and Sam exchanged handshakes; when she turned to Dean Sam slid into the passenger seat to give them a moment.

"If you ever need anything, call me. Doesn't matter what time of day or night, I will pick up," she promised.

"Same goes for you." After a moment of shifting weight from foot to foot they both moved forward at the same moment. The distance was closed as Dean caught her up in his arms. She heavily breathed in his scent. Dean brought his forehead down to rest on the top of her hair.

"Come back and see me some time," her words were muffled by his jacket.

"I swear I will. Just don't wait up for me." After another moment they broke apart. Dean slipped behind the wheel and started the engine. Abigail waved as they pulled out and drove away. She stared after the black Chevy Impala as long as she could. She was absolutely confident she would see it again, though when, she wasn't sure.

Dean kept glancing in the rearview mirror to watch Abigail as they drove further away. Soon she was out of sight. He silently made an oath that he would be back.

Abigail did see Dean Winchester again, though it was not without a three month time span.

* * *

Abigail's head jerked up when a knock sounded at the door. She was right in the middle of a chapter for physics. Taking her glasses off to rub her eyes she wondered who that could be at two hours to midnight. Her roommate Sydney wouldn't be back for another two days from visiting family. Another—this time more urgent—knock came. Frowning she cracked open the door the smallest bit to peek outside, hand on her knife. With a gasp she pulled it open wider. Dean stood on the doorstep supporting a barely conscious Sam.

"Get in here! What happened? Is he alright?" she bombarded them with questions. Dean pulled his brother in and kicked the door closed. She ushered them to the couch and helped lower Sam. He grimaced in pain.

"What happened?"

"Changling," Dean said gruffly. "Keep an eye on him, would ya? I'll be back once this thing is taken care of." Pressing a hand to her cheek he was out the door. Abigail stood there slightly dumbfounded waiting for her mind to process what had happened.

An exhale of air from the couch brought her back to the present. Sam was her priority at the moment. Fetching the first aid kit, a bucket of warm water and a washcloth she returned and began to assess the damage. His shirt needed to be removed so she could see the damage done; it was in shreds anyways so she cut it off.

"It's not that bad," he argued weakly at seeing the look on her face.

"I beg to differ," she opposed. Bruises and a few superficial cuts ran along his arms and face. As long as he didn't let them scar up he would be fine. The scratches that marred the side of his abdomen were more concerning. Three parallel marks ran across his ribcage to the top of his waistband. A hiss escaped when she gently cleaned the crusted blood away with the washcloth.

"I'm sorry," she said empathetically. He gritted his teeth but didn't complain as she cleaned the wounds and began stitching them up. Abigail focused on her fingers moving the needle and thread. Slow, precise. When she finally tied off the last one she examined her handiwork. She was proud of the neat, orderly rows of stitches. Whenever someone in her family needed patching up after a hunt, she was always the one they turned to.

Replacing everything where it went, she returned to her patient with a glass of whiskey. "Here, this will make you feel better," she handed it over. Sam took it with a thankful smile and drained it, not caring about the burn it left him with.

"Thanks, Abby," he sighed, leaning back.

"Do you want to explain to me how you ended up on my couch?" she took the glass back and refilled it for him.

"Dean overreacted like usual. I would've been fine finishing the hunt."

"I agree with Dean on this one; you would be useless and in the way," she shook her head.

Sam groaned loudly. "He's worried about me; I haven't been sleeping well and he doesn't believe I can make smart decisions for myself."

"He cares about you and wants to make sure you are fine. If something happened to you he would lose his mind," she patted his knee with a sympathetic smile.

Sam felt safe here and that mixed with the alcohol in his system, he began nodding off after a short while. Abigail removed his boots and set them by the front door. Next she brought out a pile of blankets and pillows. Propping the pillows behind his head, she draped the quit over the remainder of his stretched out body. Opting to sleep in the armchair so she could keep an eye on Sam, Abigail curled up. Her eyes drifted closed and slowly her mind quieted.

* * *

A gentle knock on the door roused Abigail from her light sleep. Groaning she reluctantly began to stir. It was only ten after five. Her back cracked and joints popped as she stretched. Sam was still passed out on the couch. He was so relaxed while asleep. His shoulders were not tense, the muscles in his face smooth. Taking care not to wake him she tiptoed to the door and peeked out.

Abigail opened the door to let Dean in. "How did it go?" she whispered.

"Alright; it's not going to be killing anyone again," Dean spoke just a tad lower than his normal voice. "Don't worry—Sam can sleep through a hurricane."

Motioning for him to make himself comfortable, she retreated into the kitchen and gathered items to prepare breakfast.

Dean surveyed the small apartment. A blanket was strewn across the armchair where he assumed she had spent the night. A peaceful Sam was snoring, arm flung across his face. He followed Abby into the kitchen a moment later and watched her work from the doorway.

"How's school going?"

"Pretty good; my calculus class is killing me, though."

Dean let out a chuckle. "Sweetheart, you're doing better than I ever dreamed of doing." She smiled at him. Her bed hair was lopsided, pajamas wrinkled, bottoms with M&Ms printed on them swishing around her ankles as she flew around the small kitchen.

Loading two plates with eggs and pancakes, she set them on the counter and sat across from Dean. He hungrily dug into his meal. It had been about twelve hours since he last ate, which was a lifetime for the hunter. Then he went back for seconds. And thirds. When his stomach was finally satisfied he leaned back.

"That hit the spot. The last time I had a home cooked meal was almost two months ago at Bobby's place, if you could even call it that. His food is toxic."

"Glad I could fix that craving for you," she reached for his empty plate but he snatched it away.

"No, let me clean up. You go rest for a while." Abigail did not argue but merely nodded and shuffled to her room. "Do you have any pie?" he called.

"Check the fridge," she responded over her shoulder. Dean heard the door click shut. To his delight there was a bit of apple pie. He sat back down at the table.

"It's just you and me now," he grinned like a maniac and dug into it. To him, pie was the perfect comfort food. He deserved some, after that case. It had worn on him physically as well as mentally. Sam was beginning to weigh him down emotionally. He didn't know what else to do for the guy. He avoided talking about it to Dean, which frustrated the older man. But then again, he refused to talk about his feelings, too.

Dean took his time washing and drying the dishes, then wiping the counter down. He even took out the trash. When there was nothing else he could think of, he flopped down in the living room and switched on the TV, letting the channel rest on some documentary. Within half an hour his snores were in sync with Sam's and Abigail's. As the sun rose on a new morning, three hunters slept peacefully.


	6. Chapter 6

p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;"Light shining through the slit in the blinds penetrated Abigail's eyelids. She eased open the bedroom door and peered into the living room. Both Winchester brothers were sound asleep. She scribbled a quick note telling them to make themselves at home before hopping into the shower quickly and rushing off to her Psychology 101 class. When she returned home that evening a pleasant smell hit her nose. Sam sat at the counter nursing a beer and entertaining Dean while the elder brother cooked dinner./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;""This is nice, I should have people camp out here more often," she laughed./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;""Figured it's the least I can do considering everything you've done," Dean answered, straining pasta through the colander./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;""Seriously, it is not a big deal," she insisted, pulling plates from a cupboard./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;""Maybe not to you but it means the world that Sammy has a place to recuperate for a day."/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;"Sam took a sip of his beer. "He is never going to let it go so just accept his thanks and get on with it."/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;""Well in that case, your token of appreciation is very much appreciated," Abigail said while setting the loaded plates down./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;"For never having his own kitchen, Dean was an excellent chef. His meat sauce over the penne pasta was the best Abigail had ever tasted. Dean shrugged it off but he was pleased at the compliments from Sam and Abigail. Everyone helped clean up afterwards and then the trio moved into the living room. For hours they exchanged hunting stories, discussed old acquaintances, and laughed about anything else that happened to be mentioned. It was well into the night before Sam let a yawn escape. Dean immediately went into mother hen mode, declaring it was time for somebody's bedtime. Abigail graciously gave up her bed to Sam. The boys protested kicking Abigail out of her own room but she insisted. "You two look like you could use a good night sleep. Besides, Sydney would not appreciate having someone she doesn't know sleeping in her bed."/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;"It took a bit of arguing and threatening before Sam agreed to the sleeping arrangements. But he thought Abby changing the bed so he could have clean sheets was too much. "Shut up and go to bed," she lightly slapped his arm. A few minutes later heavy snores were heard from the bedroom. Dean smiled and took another swig of his beer./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;""Thank you. I know it was late notice and all but thanks for looking after him."/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;"Abigail snorted, "Late notice? Try no notice. What if I wasn't here, though? Where would you have gone?"/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;""You're always going to be there when I need you," Dean added a smirk./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;""Whatever you say, Dean." Abby rolled her eyes but she stretched out beside him anyways. They sat together watching old western reruns, a comfortable half-foot of space between their bodies. Slowly Dean's head fell back, soft snores emanating from his slightly open mouth. Abigail positioned him so he was lying down and draped the quilt Sam had used the night before across him. She removed his boots like she had done for the younger Winchester./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;"This was a new side of Dean she had not seen before-but then again, she did not know him that well-or at least as well as she might like. While asleep he had nothing to worry about: the creases in his forehead disappeared, his posture did not sag under the weight of the world he was so determined to carry alone. The dark bags under his eyes showed how little sleep he got on average. No matter what he said, she knew that he needed these moments where he could let everything go for a while and slip off into bliss./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;""Good night, Dean." After checking the door was locked (though she was not afraid of thieves breaking in, even when the Winchesters were not crashing in her apartment), she crawled onto Sydney's bed, not bothering with any covers. She was asleep before her head hit the pillow./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;"After breakfast the boys loaded the Impala. Sam and Abigail exchanged hugs. "Take care of those stitches," she left him with. Glancing between her and his elder brother, Sam slid into the passenger seat. He would give those two some privacy./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;""I'm sorry that it took this long for me to come back," Dean began./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;""No, don't start that," she shook her head. A moment passed before she voiced what was on her mind. "To tell you goodbye again and wait months to see you, I don't want to do that again."/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;""Darlin' it's only goodbye if you want it to be."/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;""But it's still a long time."/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;""My offer still stands if you ever want to join us on the road. We need somebody with your steady hand around to patch Sam up."/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;"Biting her lip she looked down, weighing her options. Even though there was nothing to decide. She already knew what she was going to do. Meeting Dean's eyes once more she said, "I want to come with you. Not right now," she hastily added as Dean opened his mouth, "once this semester ends pick me up. I'll solve a few cases with you guys before I go back to school."/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;"He studied her for several minutes. "Are you sure about that?"/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;""Yes."/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;""Then let me know and I will be here whenever you are ready."/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;""I will; just don't wait up on me." He laughed and wrapped her up in an embrace./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;"Dean's voice rumbled through his chest, "Take care of yourself, Sweetheart." They did not pull away for a time, simply holding one another. Then Abigail gently disentangled herself from him and stepped back. Dean settled himself behind the steering wheel. The engine growled to life and the black Impala pulled away from Abigail once more. But this time her heart was thumping. She was no longer waiting for Dean to decide when to come back; he was waiting for her to call on him./p 


	7. Chapter 7

Abigail had been on the road with the brothers for a week now. The evening after finishing her last final she had called Dean and told him she would be waiting. Two days later the familiar black Impala was parked outside. Her roommate was a bit hesitant to let her go on a "road trip" with two men that she had met in a bar but with enough persuasion her mind was settled. After all, Abigail was a big girl who could take care of herself.

The trio's first hunt was a coven of vampires in Fremont, Nebraska. Abigail had managed to figure out what they were hunting faster than both of the brothers combined. Then there was the short delay of tracking one back to the abandoned factory that served as their nest. (Seriously, what was it with monsters and old large spaces?) Sam had taken the initiative and gone in first before the others were in position. They were able to take the half dozen out without much of a scuffle, but that did not stop Dean for chewing into Sam on the way back to the motel.

"Next time wait for me before going into an abandoned factory where we know a coven of vampires are staked out." Abigail chuckled as she noticed the unintentional pun. Dean was not impressed. "Haha, hilarious, but I'm serious, Sammy."

"Yeah, I know, Dean. Next time I'll wait," Sam sighed in exasperation.

Later that evening they were celebrating another successful hunt in a small diner. Sam and Dean were in a heated debate. "I'm telling you, Sam, pie is the only thing out there that is a cure for anything and everything."

Abigail grinned and spun her beer bottle in her hands. She loved every second of being with these two boys. Their little arguments made her laugh. She could easily talk to either; she already was feeling like a mother hen protecting her boys. And they were a comfort to be around in general. Sure, she had heard stories of them—what hunter hadn't? But they were not what she had expected. They were certainly the best hunters she had met; but she was able to catch occasional glimpses of them under the armor they wore to protect themselves from the hardships of this life. Dean was not always uptight; Sam was beginning to open up and accept her.

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother. "Dean, if you ate all of the pie you wanted to, you would die of diabetes or high cholesterol." He caught Abigail's eye and shared a look. Sam admitted to himself that having her around brightened the mood. She was easy to talk to; her laugh was contagious; and it was certainly a nice change to have somebody to do research with other than Dean (who had a tendency to get distracted). Abigail threw herself into whatever it was she was doing with full effort. That was something Sam appreciated. And he could see the effect she had on Dean. He knew his older brother would never say anything outright, of course.

A waitress set their plates down: a bacon cheeseburger for Dean, a Caesar salad for Sam, and a five-cheese quesadilla and side salad for Abigail. That was something else Sam liked about her: she never teased him for eating healthy. Conversation lulled as they cleaned their plates. When Dean's pecan pie arrived he happily tucked in. Sam picked up the paper and started leafing through it.

After a while he spoke up, "I think I found us a case: people have been going missing for months now and babies are being found a few days later near the places of disappearance."

"So? Maybe parents aren't watching their kids and they go wandering off. That doesn't mean we need to check it out," Dean said around a mouth of crust.

"I think it does sound like our thing. Abigail, what do you think?"

She shrugged, "Wouldn't hurt to take a look."


	8. Chapter 8

**Okay, this is WAY overdue, I know. I'm sorry. I will try to post some more updates to make up for it.**

When they arrived in the city with the disappearances they went through the usual routine: go to police department, flash badges, gather any information. Then interview the latest victim's spouse. The husband was still very broken up and not much help.

After another tear-filled answer from the husband Abigail spoke up, "Do you mind if I use the restroom?"

"Sure, it's down the hall on the right." She exited the room but instead of entering the guest bathroom slipped into the master bedroom. In the trash was a box. Pulling it out she saw it was a pregnancy test that showed negative. She tip-toed to the hallway quietly and flushed the toilet to make it seem believable. She returned to the living room and resumed her seat.

"Mr. Gonzales, do you have any kids?" The brothers offered her a curious glance but she nodded once to say she would explain later.

He shook his head sadly. "No, Marcella and I, we have been trying but…" She placed her hand over his in a comforting gesture. "I'm sorry," he sniffed, "This is still so hard for me. She's just gone and the police don't have much information."

"Well if we find something we will let you know," Sam said. That was their cue to leave. Politely they excused themselves and followed Sam out the door. As soon as they reached the sidewalk Abigail had two pairs of eyes on her.

"Want to tell us why you had to make the poor man cry more than he already has?" Dean asked sarcastically.

"I have an idea of what we are looking for," she murmured, deep in thought, "But I need to do research first."

"Care to share?"

"Not yet; I might be wrong."

On the way back to the motel they grabbed some burgers. Each person made themselves at home after arriving back in the brothers' room: Abigail kicked off her heels; Dean discarded his suit jacket and grabbed a beer; Sam loosened his tie and undid the top button of his shirt. Books and computers were scattered around the hunters. Abigail was stretched out on her stomach beside Sam on one bed while Dean reclined against the headrest of the other bed. He was more interested in playing with the label on his beer bottle than reading. Abigail was going through a book on ancient lore, head propped up by one arm. Sam didn't seem to be having much luck, either.

"All of the victims were different ages, came from different backgrounds, lived on opposite sides of town," Sam spoke aloud to himself, "what could be the connection?"

"Did they cheat?"

"From what I can tell, no. They were all church-goers. But who knows what goes on behind closed doors," he noted.

A few minutes later Sam made a noise that meant he had found something interesting. "Check this out: all of the couples had purchased pregnancy tests. Maybe they had been trying unsuccessfully to conceive?" he shrugged.

"So what does this mean?" Dean asked with a mouthful of burger.

Abigail suddenly hopped up and ran out the door. Dean and Sam shared a look with each other before Sam shrugged and returned to his computer. A moment later she returned, carrying a book with a worn leather cover and gold lettering. Without delay she settled back on the bed and began leafing through it.

"Ha!" Abigail exclaimed triumphantly, jabbing a finger at a page. "Found it. We are hunting a god."

"Great, a god," Dean grumbled.

"But what would an ancient god have to do with babies popping up around the time and place of disappearance?" Sam questioned.

Dean shrugged. "They're turning the people into babies. Maybe soft baby skin tastes better than leathery old skin."

Sam's nose wrinkled, "Dude that is morbid."

Abigail continued to read on, "It says here that Aphrodite was goddess of love, beauty, fertility and childbirth."

"So you think that she's preventing the victims from being able to have kids? That doesn't make sense," Sam reasoned.

"Our lives don't make sense; we hunt things that go bump in the night," Dean rolled his eyes.


	9. Chapter 9

p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;"Three days later tensions were high. They were no closer to finding Aphrodite than they were the first day. That evening Abby was alone in her motel room. Dean had drug Sam along with him to the bar for a drink. Abigail declined the offer, wanting to instead take a shower and have some alone time. Dean shrugged and grabbed the keys on the way out the door./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;"She sighed when the door clicked shut. She could be alone for a couple hours. Not that she disliked the Winchesters' company but a girl needs her privacy once in a while. Stepping into the warm stream of water she washed herself at leisure. No boys banging on the bathroom door calling for her to hurry. She was glad she had decided to stay on another case with them; already she was beginning to feel a special connection with the boys. Especially Dean. Something about Dean caused a flurry inside of her when he smiled or said her name or called her "sweetheart". She definitely had feelings for him. But he considered her as a friend, a hunting partner and that was all. But then there were times that made her question if he did see her as something different. Small moments when he would compliment her or offer a small—albeit genuine—smile. Or when they were sitting in the same booth he would sling an arm over the back./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;"emThis is moving way to fast/em, she thought to herself while drying off. emI met Dean at a bar, worked one hunt with them, let them stay with me a few nights, then a few months later they picked me up to work a case./em emI barely even know the Winchesters and I packed up to live out of motels with them./em She knew that she should be visiting her family or working a summer job or taking summer classes. But she could not deny that this felt right: killing monsters, saving people, being with Sam and Dean, even if it was rough living conditions. And besides, she did not know what she wanted to do. Sure, she had a bachelor's degree in medicine-something that was extremely useful in emergency situations. But Abigail had considered joining the fire or police academy-or even the military, for that matter. Her calling was to serve and help others, even total strangers. That is why being with the Winchesters and protecting innocent lives was so rewarding to her./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;"emI'm thinking too much, /emshe groaned. But a small voice in her head whispered on repeat, emyou're moving too fast. Dean is a friend. He will never be anything more./em/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;"She crawled onto one of the beds and flipped on the television. Soon enough, though, Abigail was out like a light. She awoke to the door banging open. Reaching instinctively for a weapon she realized it was only Sam. A frantic Sam, as she looked closer. He was holding a squirming, drooling, giggling baby at arm length./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;""Abby, we have a problem."/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;""Where did the baby come from?" she asked warily./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;""It's not a baby: it's Dean."/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;"Abigail blinked, looked between Sam's anxious face to the squirming child in his arms, shook her head and asked, "What?" The sleep must be clouding her hearing. And seeing./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;""Dean got turned into a two-year-old."/p  
hr style="margin: 5px 0px; border: 0px; background: -webkit-gradient(linear, 0% 100%, 100% 100%, from(#ffffff), color-stop(0.1, #cbcbcb), color-stop(0.9, #cbcbcb), to(#ffffff)) #cbcbcb; color: #000000; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;" noshade="noshade" size="1" /  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;""So a beautiful woman at the bar was flirting with Dean and they went to the back. Then when you went to the bathroom you found a baby sitting on the floor in a pile of Dean's clothes and the girl was nowhere to be seen. So you assumed it was Dean—which makes sense, I suppose—and brought him back here. Did I get that right?" Abigail turned in her pacing the motel floor. Sam nodded, glancing at the baby who was currently lying in the middle of the bed sucking on its toes./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;""Yes," Sam sucked in air between his teeth. "The woman must have been Aphrodite. She knows we're on to her."/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;""This doesn't make any sense," Abby groaned and flopped onto the opposite bed. She observed the baby. A splash of freckles covered his nose and cheeks. His eyes convinced her that this was indeed Dean; sharp green eyes that latched onto her and caused a smile to grow on his chubby cheeks./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;""We can't have him wrapped in a towel," she reasoned. "He needs diapers, food, clothes." She pulled jeans and a t-shirt from her bag and headed to the bathroom. "I'll go to the store and you stay with him."/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;""Why can't I go to the store and you stay here with Dean?" Sam protested quickly, eyes wide at the notion of having to take care of a baby./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;""Because," she answered, which was certainly not an answer in Sam's mind. "We can all go to the store, then," she called before closing the door. Sam cocked his head while monitoring Baby Dean's actions. "I am so mad at you right now."/p  
hr style="margin: 5px 0px; border: 0px; background: -webkit-gradient(linear, 0% 100%, 100% 100%, from(#ffffff), color-stop(0.1, #cbcbcb), color-stop(0.9, #cbcbcb), to(#ffffff)) #cbcbcb; color: #000000; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;" noshade="noshade" size="1" /  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;"They pulled into the parking lot of the only store still open at this hour. Abigail referenced a list she had compiled before leaving the motel. "Let's get this done as quickly as possible."/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;""Agreed." There were few shoppers inside so they were able to stand in the infant aisles staring at baby food like idiots without anybody watching. Abigail piled jars of green mush into the cart before moving on to the clothes./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;""How about these diapers?" Sam held up a package of extra large ones with princesses on the front. She couldn't help but smirk./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;""Those ones will slide right off. Get the smaller size," she pointed. Sam grinned and selected the proper size but kept the princess design. Dean would absolutely hate it./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;"Sam had Dean positioned in the crook of his arm, the older Winchester resting in the palm of his hand. It looked like Sam was ready to score a touchdown with the ball tucked safely under his arm. "Sam, a baby is not a football."/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;""What? He's fine," he insisted. Dean was contently sucking his thumb, eyes half-closed./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;"An elderly woman holding a carton of milk paused and smiled at Dean. "He is so precious," she cooed, "how old is he?" Sam and Abigail shared a panicked look before she answered twenty-two months./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;""He is at such a fun age. I have four children, myself. All grown up now. From whom did he get such green eyes?"/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;"Sam spoke up, "My mother had green eyes."/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;""Oh how lucky! And he has his mother's smile. Just look at those dimples; he'll be a real ladies' man when he grows up, I know it."/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;"Abigail couldn't help but laugh a bit. "Oh, I'm sure."/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;"The woman looked between the two hunters. "Have you recently moved here?"/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;"They glanced at each other before Sam cleared his throat. "Er… yes. We're new and still trying to familiarize ourselves with the town." Abigail nodded along./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;""Well this is a wonderful place to raise a family."/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;""So we've heard," Abigail placed a hand on Sam's arm and tried to make it appear as though she were a concerned first-time mother. "The only thing that worries me is the number of disappearances lately."/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;""Oh, there is nothing to fear. From the rumors floating around, those people left their spouses. But I doubt that will affect you. You three make a beautiful family." Sam's forced smile was almost comical./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;""It was nice talking to you," Abigail said sweetly, "thanks for the information."/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;""Of course, dear. Anytime." With a smile and a wave to Baby Dean the woman waddled to checkout./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;"The "young couple" stood there for a moment in stunned silence. "So I guess we're the new couple on the block," Sam said awkwardly./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;""I guess so." Dean had his head resting on Sam's shoulder, eyes closed./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;"strongI had fun writing this chapter, espcially shopping for baby items. I can imagine Sam's reaction at bringing a baby back to the motel and his face at being told he would be left alone to care after Baby Dean. Enjoy!/strong/p 


	10. Chapter 10

**This is overdue. I know. I have gone back and edited some of the previous chapters if anyone would like to read them. There's not much difference, just adding a few sentences and making some gramatical changes. Well, here's chapter 10. Hope you enjoy!**

"Do you know how to change diapers?"

"No, I was the youngest. What about you?"

"I was three when my little sister was born. I didn't change her diapers."

"Dean was taking care of me by the time he was five."

"Well if Dean was here right now he could do this himself," Abigail snapped. "Oh, wait, he's the one who pooped all over himself and needs a diaper change." The two were in the motel room, Baby Dean lying on his back on one of the beds. He was in desperate need of a diaper change, but neither hunter was willing to make a move.

Sam grasped at straws. "You should do it; your nose is not as sensitive as mine." He even tried his pleading puppy dog eyes. But Abigail would not let herself be swayed.

"He's your brother. Don't you think it would be kind of weird if I changed his diaper?"

"Don't you have any motherly instincts?" Sam tried in a last attempt. "You could figure out how to do it better than I can."

The standoff continued while Dean sucked on his toes and laughed. Sam eventually lost but not without offering Abigail a death glare that would have caused a lesser man to cower. Changing the diaper wasn't as hard as he thought: the smell was the largest obstacle. Abigail called out instructions from the other side of the room. Sam admitted that her modesty was adorable. Dean giggled as he lifted him by the feet to clean his rear with a baby wipe. "Don't say I never did anything for you," he said once Baby Dean was freshened up. He drooled down his chin and reached out to touch Sam's face. "Yeah, you're welcome."

He turned to see Abigail standing in the doorway holding her phone. "You did not…" he growled.

"Oh, yes I did. To use as blackmail," she smirked, waving the phone in the air. He lunged for it and she sprung away. "I'll use it on Dean—unless you do something that just begs for me to tell him about this," she laughed.

"Abigail Lucero you get back here right now!" he yelled but she only slipped out the room laughing. Sam frowned at Dean and he mimicked his brother's face. "I am going to kill her," he announced. Dean let out a giggle and clapped his hands.

* * *

She entered the bathroom, careful to leave the door open in case Dean started crying. Sam had left to get something for them to eat. When she stepped back out there was somebody else in the room, an elderly man who would be tall if not for a hunched back. Immediately she moved between the intruder and Baby Dean. "Who are you?" her hand tightened around the knife in her back pocket.

"Abigail, it's me," the old man sighed.

She squinted at him. "Sam?" He nodded and gingerly lowered onto one of the beds.

"You look terrible."

His glower did not hold the desired effect because of the numerous wrinkles across his face. "Aphrodite got the jump on me when I was in the parking lot."

"That's great, Sam," she groaned sarcastically. "Did you at least bring the food?" With a glare he nodded at the to-go bag on the nightstand. "We need to get this job done now," she declared around a mouthful of chicken wrap.

"Agreed. I think I know where she might be hiding: there's an old diaper packaging factory a few miles away. It makes sense she would be there." Sam attempted to bite into his own wrap until he realized his teeth were not adequate enough to do so. He was instead forced to gnaw at his grilled chicken until it came away in sizes small enough to swallow. Abigail snorted at his sufferings and handed him a fork and knife.

"We have to drive a stake dipped in lamb's blood into her heart. You distract her and I'll come up behind her—'

"Hold on, cowboy. Have you looked in the mirror lately? You are in no condition to fight anything. Besides, who will watch Dean? I can't take care of Dean, watch your old crippled back and take on Aphrodite at once. You need to stay back with Dean until its safe."

"I'm not letting you face her alone."

"I'm the best option we have right now. Out of the three of us, I am the only one who has a fighting chance."

"I'll cover you with a shotgun. No arguments," he added when she opened her mouth.

"Don't shoot me, grandpa." He rolled his eyes.


	11. Chapter 11

When the Impala's engine cut off outside the diaper factory Abigail stepped out from behind the wheel. She really enjoyed driving this car and could understand why Dean coveted it. Sam had started shuffling to the driver side when they were leaving the motel but Abigail put her foot down immediately. "I don't care how good of a driver you think you are, old people have slow reactions and poor depth perception. We do not need to die in a wreck before we even get there." With great reluctance he had handed over the keys.

Sam opened the trunk, propped it open with a sawed off shotgun. "Here, you'll need this." In his outstretched hand was the hastily carved olive stake. "You'll only get one chance, so make it good."

"When do I ever waste a shot?" Abigail scoffed.

Sam observed her for a moment before offering a sincere "good luck."

"Thanks." She watched as he took Dean and a gun in his arms and entered the building across the alley; from the roof he would be able to have a clear view into the factory. After seeing his hand wave from the rooftop she took a deep breath to steel her nerves and stepped into the factory. Even after the countless hunts she had been on, there was always the moment when her heart quickened pace and she had to control her breathing. She had yet to notice it with the Winchesters, however, so maybe it was just her who got nervous. Her hand brushed the stake in her jacket just to reassure herself it was there. Walking in here without it would be suicide.

"You hunters really are thick, aren't you?" She wheeled around to come face-to-face with the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. She had the body of a model, rich olive skin and chestnut brown hair cascading in waves down her back. A silk, ankle-length dress that shimmered with the slightest movement clung to her form. Her eyes, which seemed to shift color, were deep-set, framed by long lashes and complimented by plush pink lips. This woman was exactly what the goddess of beauty should look like. Even without makeup she was breathtaking.

"Where are Grandpa and Baby?"

Abigail ignored the question. "Why did you do it? What have they all done to you?"

"Oh, you mean those others? I gave them the child they always wanted; but of course, making deals always comes with a price, especially with the goddess of fertility."

"The price being that they can't take care of the child they always wanted because they are the child," Abigail pieced together what had been formulating in her mind for some time. "How about the Winchesters—why change their ages and not mine? All three of us are hunters and I can kill you just as easily as Sam or Dean. Sam is old, not a baby. As far as I know neither of them are in a relationship. So why mess with them?"

Abigail frowned as Aphrodite put a hand to her heart. "Oh, honey, human ignorance pains me. Anything you desire is within reach. Look at you: so beautiful, so young, so smart; you can have any man you want with a smile and eyelash flutter.

"I've been watching you, Abigail. No matter how humble and selfless you try to be, inside you know you deserve so much better than the life these boys are offering to you. Sometimes you wonder what life would be like had you stayed in college rather than running off with them—or not even gone to the bar that night. These boys are holding you back, Abigail. Without them you could be so much more than you are right now."

"Shut up!" Abigail yelled, "You don't know anything about me." _Keep it together_ , she snapped internally and focused on regaining her composure. This is what every monster does: they try to get under the skin with words that cause hunters to doubt themselves so much that they eventually let the creature escape, believing it is himself who is the monster.

Aphrodite continued on, oblivious to the interruption. "First we have Sam Winchester with his kind smile, baby seal eyes and words of encouragement. You are quite the rival to his brains, something he admires and at the same time is jealous of. The two of you get along so well. He is the brother you never had. Oh, I know you have a younger brother, but Sam is mature and much closer to your age.

"And then there is Dean Winchester: impossible to forget. No matter how stubborn he can become you find yourself unable to disentangle yourself from his swimming pool of sorrows and delusions. It pains you to be so close and not know what he thinks of you. Don't try to deny it, Abigail.

"I could tell you," Aphrodite offered, "I could even make him love you. The two of you could share the rest of your short hunters' life together. For you, he might even give up hunting." Those words made Abby hesitate. Did she want Dean's love? What would she do to have Dean love her? Scenarios of her and Dean growing old together flashed through her mind. They would buy a house with wrap-around porch. Sam would have the downstairs bedroom. She saw herself—gray hair and wrinkles—sitting beside Dean on a Sunday morning in a porch swing.

Abigail shook the muddled feeling from her head. "But it would never be real," she muttered.

"Of course it would be! His eyes would simply be opened."

"I don't need him to love me," she argued. She noticed that it hurt to say those words, but they were true. She needed Dean to trust her more than she needed him to love her. With those words she broke free from the spell and cleared her mind again.

"Stop lying to yourself! The two of you can have something more if only you were to pursue it! That is why I changed their ages: this has all been a test to help you realize how much the Winchesters rely on you. Without their Abigail Lucero they would never find their way out of a paper bag. And what do you get in return for all of your devotion and hard work? Barely more than a 'thanks' from the man you gave up your career for before he runs off to spend the night with a waitress."

"I've only been with them for a couple of weeks," Abigail attempted at a final argument. She had to admit that nobody had ever been so interested in her love life, not even her younger sister, and it was uncomfortable to talk about boys with someone she came here to kill.

"But you have felt a connection with Dean since your first meeting. The sense of unity is undeniable."

"I am giving you one chance to switch them back before I kill you." The goddess smirked like this was a game—which it probably was to her.

"I would love to see you try. I have been around for centuries. Do you really expect that you—one little human—can take me?"

"It's worth a shot. Besides, you said it yourself: I can have whatever I want." With that she lunged forward. Aphrodite raked red nails down Abigail's arm. She did not feel any pain. Abigail kicked her in the knee. The two circled each other wearily. Driven by stupid rage, Abby charged. Aphrodite grabbed her by the shoulders and held her back while the hunter attempted to drive the stake into her heart. The pillar beside her head suddenly spewed concrete as a bullet lodged in it. "Sam!" she yelled. "Aim for her, not me!"

The distraction was enough for the Aphrodite to gain the upper hand. Abigail was knocked backwards, landing hard with the goddess on top of her. Hands encircled her neck. The life was being sucked out of her—literally. Abby could feel herself weakening. She only had a few seconds.

Wedging her knee under the ribcage she was able to throw the god off and scramble up. Gripping the spike in her left hand she dove and tackled the legs. Bodies hit the floor and grappled for leverage. This was her only chance. Straddling the monster she plunged the stake into Aphrodite's chest. The Greek goddess immediately stopped struggling, gasping like a fish out of water.

"Your love will be doomed," she rasped. Then the beautiful head fell back, the body stilled.

Gasping, Abigail rose shakily to her feet. What if it had not worked? What if Sam was still old and Dean was still a toddler? Then what would she do? On quivering legs she emerged into the fading sunlight.

"Abby?" Sam called.

"I'm good," she lifted thumbs up. Sam's head had disappeared from sight and she headed to the Impala. As she leaned against the black car she took deep breaths to calm her racing heart. _It's just from the fight_ , she told herself. But she knew that was a lie; she was in too good of shape to be winded that easily. But she didn't want to think about anything for the moment. Instead she focused on her lungs inhaling and exhaling.

A few minutes later a door opened on the opposite side of the road. Her heart leapt. Sam was back to normal, save for his apparent lack of jacket. Behind him emerged Dean, back to his full height and age, Sam's jacket wrapped around his torso. Besides that he appeared to have nothing else on. Both brothers grinned from ear-to-ear when they saw her. She was wrapped up in a bone-crushing hug.

"You did it!" Sam cried happily, swinging her in a circle. She laughed along with them, their excitement contagious. When he set her down Dean pulled her in.

"Thanks for getting me out of baby strollers," he chuckled. She watched as he stretched his arms out, examined himself just to make sure he really was back to normal. She laughed and tossed the stake into the trunk along with Sam's shotgun.

"When Sam gets old, don't ever let him handle a gun."

* * *

On the way back to their rooms she was deep in thought over something Aphrodite had said.

 _You could have any man you want._

But she doubted the man she did want desired her the way she wanted him. The man she did want was a one-night-stand type of person. She wanted somebody with whom she could have a steady, healthy relationship. Well, as healthy as living on the road and not knowing if today would be your last day could be. She would never admit it out loud, for fear of disturbing something precious—friendship. Besides, it was probably hormones heating up after everything the deranged goddess had said.

"Abs, you good?" Surprised, she looked up to meet Dean's eyes in the rearview mirror.

"Yeah, I'm good," she smiled through the thumping in her heart. All of that may have been a test to show how much the Winchesters relied on her, but it also showed just how much she relied on them.


	12. Chapter 12

**This is much shorter but I feel it fits as a singular chapter.**

Sam lounged on his bed reading a book while Dean relaxed on the sofa sipping a beer after he spent a full sixty minutes locked in the bathroom at the motel, singing ACDC and whistling happily. He was very pleased to be back in his normal body and able to reach the petals on his Baby. Abigail had stepped outside for a walk, expecting the cool air to clear her mind from all of the buzz and excitement of earlier. Upon entering the boys' room she hung her coat beside the door and plopped beside Dean on a couch that looked like it once seated George Washington. She landed in a rather large indent and struggled to find a more comfortable position. Dean scooted over and she gratefully crawled from the crater. His arm casually rested over the back of the couch, boots propped on the Ottoman.

"What was it like being a baby?" He did not answer for a moment, just picked at the label on his beer bottle.

"I didn't understand everything that was happening, but my instincts were drawing me to you. Like a kid to their mom. I somehow knew that you and Sam were the only people I was safe with.

"You make a good mother, Abs." He smirked and she shook her head. "No, I'm serious," he persisted, "I would be proud to have you as the mother of my children." She scanned his eyes but found only sincerity. The blush started to creep into her cheeks and she turned away to hide it. Was he just saying that? Did he mean it like it sounded? She sounded and felt like a school girl again. _Shut up and calm down._

"Thanks," she responded. He grunted and began to hum a Guns N' Roses song. Sam glanced to the two where they rested comfortably, nodding off beside one another. He knew.


	13. Chapter 13

The trio was looking into the grisly murder of a couple who had recently moved into a new house. It was most likely a ghost, a simple salt-and-burn. They would be in and out within two days tops and off to stop Lilith from breaking any more seals. But at the lastest motel they were trying to check into, there was a bit of delay. "I'm sorry, we only have one available room," the nasally clerk wheezed behind the desk. Sam scanned the surroundings. It was not the nicest accommodations in the city, but not the worst. "The fair draws visitors; and a couple of the rooms are currently being renovated."

"Are you serious?"

Abigail tried to be the pacifist. "I'll find somewhere else, don't worry about it."

"Absolutely not. You can stay with us. No discussion." Dean retrieved the keys and led the way out the door. The motel room was tidy, with a rustic brown theme. There was a couch. Dean plopped his bag on one of the beds. Abigail and Sam looked at each other before she held up a fist. She won-though Sam had let her, because as awfully uncomfortable as the couch looked, he did not want to subject her to the torture- though promised they would switch off the next night.

After an afternoon of research and examinations, Abigail crawled onto the bed but stared at the ceiling. She initially thought guilt at Sam on the sofa was preventing her from sleep; but it was fear. Abigail did not know what would greet her behind closed eyelids. She did not always have nightmares but when she did, they were indescribable. It had been a while since her last one, but all the cases lately had bothered her more than she let on. She could not explain why, for she had continued to occasionally hunt during college; but being on so many in such a short time had awakened something inside her.

Abigail woke in a cold sweat with Sam's hand on her shoulder. "It's okay, you're alright," he calmed her. She gained her bearings. They were in the motel room. The moon was still high in the sky. Sam's concerned face was illuminated by the window light. She was safe. Dean was thankfully still asleep.

"I'm sorry I woke you," she whispered.

He shook his head. "I wasn't asleep. How bad are they?" Sam asked gently.

"Pretty bad," she sighed. That was all that needed to be said; Sam understood she did not want to talk about it. They both turned when Dean grunted and rolled over.

"At least one of us is getting some sleep," Sam whispered. Abby nodded; he needed it more than any of them.

"I'm good, Sam," she assured him. He hesitated but she managed to convince him. The large silhouette lumbered back to the couch. Soon the soft snoring was heard. Settling into the pillows, Abby matched her breathing to that of the brothers'. Soon she, too, was drifting off.

A little after six in the morning she woke again. After that nightmare she had settled into unfit sleep. Might as well get up now. Stealthily retrieving her belongings she locked herself away in the bathroom. The warm shower water soothed all aching limbs.

She tiptoed out the bathroom and across the floor. "Where you goin'?" She started and spun around. Dean was sitting at the small table, not laying in bed like she had believed. He was obscured by shadows.

"I'm going to get my own room. I've been disrupting your and Sam's sleep."

"You're starting to sound like Cas," he huffed. "No, you're not."

"Last night Sam was at my bedside. Neither of you should have to deal with me." Abigail started toward the door again.

"I like you staying in our room with us and I don't mind your nightmares; Sam and I both have them. Stay one more night."

* * *

They had found the ghost, the only task now was burning the remains. Abigail lounged on one of the beds searching for the resting place of a certain Mrs. Swartz. Dean and Sam were picking up a late dinner. As hard as she tried, Abigail's eyes grew continuously more heavy; the blue light from the computer on her chest was not helping. Promising herself only one minute of rest Abby leaned back against the pillows and was out faster than a lamp.

She jerked awake, heart thudding maddly. She was a bit disoriented ; it was her night to sleep on the couch. So why was she in a bed? Sam's snores were emanating softly from the opposite mattress. Turning the other way Abigail saw the sleeping form of Dean. He must have tucked her under the sheets after falling asleep while researching.

He stirred and peered up at her. "You okay?" She didn't answer, just tried to control her racing mind. The images were fresh. A furrow appeared between Dean's eyebrows as he examined her. Reaching out he muttered "c'mere." She slowly laid back down. Strong arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her into a warm chest. "I'll scare away those nightmares."

"Thanks," she murmured and snuggled into his embrace.

"Go back to sleep," he instructed, halfway there already.

Abigail slept better than she had in what felt like a very long time. From then on she and Dean shared a bed. They were always there when the other happened to wake in the middle of the night. He chased away her demons and she unknowingly did the same for him. Dean was more relaxed with her beside him. Sometimes a knight in armor needed his own protecting.


	14. Chapter 14

Abigail knew that Dean had spent four months in Hell because of a deal he had made to save Sam after he died. She knew he had been resurrected by an angel named Castiel, whom she had yet to meet. She knew that Lilith, the powerful demon they were pursuing as she broke seals left and right, had been the proud possessor of Dean's contract. This was a very personal matter for both boys, that much was obvious. She did not, however, know many details; but she did not press the brothers. They would share with her in time if she needed to know something. She had met the brothers during Dean's one-year contract and joined them a couple months after he came back. Sometimes she wondered if his brusqueness was a result of his time down under or if it was from a compilation of past events. To her question, Sam had once noted that "Dean has always been the run 'n' gun type; he had to grow up fast after our mom died; Dad would leave him to watch me while he went on hunting trips."

Dean himself did not mention his past much, save the occasional reference to some adolescent momentum. If his parents were named, his eyes trailed down and shoulders slightly pulled together. Abigail could tell it was a painful subject for him.

Currently, the trio were on their way to Harvelle's Roadhouse. Sam lounged in the passenger seat dozing, Dean hummed and played drums on the steering wheel and Abigail bounced excitedly in the backseat. It seemed forever since she had seen Ellen and Jo and could not sit still. Dean at one point offered to pull over so she could run alongside in an effort to eliminate her energy. Forcing herself to calm down, she settled her nose into a book and spent the rest of the trip in relative silence.

"Abs, what courses are you planning to take next semester?" Dean prompted. His question had propped open the door to something that was on her mind lately.

"Actually, if you guys aren't tired of me yet, I kind of wanted to stick around."

"What about classes? You're nursing degree?" She shrugged.

"I have my bachelor's and enough medical knowledge to be useful on hunts. And by the way, I was studying to be an athletic trainer, not a nurse."  
"Like at a high school with a bunch of teenagers?" he grimaced at the mere thought. "I'm not sure if you should stick around; I don't want you mixed up with the whole Lilith pursuit and stopping the Devil's cage from being popped open. You have a future to live for."

"That future won't be there if Lucifer breaks free," she pointed out.

After a resigned sigh, "You can stay as long as you want," Dean offered, meeting her eyes in the rearview mirror. From the mass in the front seat came a "What he said." She grinned.

"You sure you're okay with it?"

"Absolutely. Someone like you is worth keeping around."

"And why is that, Winchester?" she leaned forward and rested her chin on the seat back. Her eyes trained on his passive face while his stared at the road.

"For one, you can put Sam in his place. You're a genius, you can patch us up, you're almost as good a shooter as I am, you can fight, you're one of the bravest people I know, not to mention beautiful." She blushed, smiled with a thanks.

After a few minutes of lapse silence with Bon Jovi, Dean glanced at Abigail. "Tell me something about yourself."

She shrugged, "what do you want to know?" He suggested high school and she pondered for a few minutes. "I was on the dance team; we won state two years in a row. I only tripped once on the stairs in four years. I was going upstairs and caught myself, so I was sprawled across six steps; then the kids behind me fell on top of me. I graduated third in my class with straight- As. The basketball and volleyball coaches were always trying to convince me to join their teams. My senior year, I won Homecoming princess. There was this girl, Camilla Roybal, who hated me but I didn't know that. At a sleepover, she drew on my face and placed my hand in a bowl of warm water." Dean snorted then tried to cover it up. "Go ahead and laugh; I got her back when she actually threw a punch at me and I laid her out in about five seconds. I grew up in a hunting family but wasn't allowed to go on my first case until I was sixteen. I helped my parents and older sister with research; they would only do things that were within a half-days drive and not more than two days; at least one parent would stay at home with my younger brother and I, though." Dean was appalled. His entire life he had believed a functioning family could not be raised in the hunting lifestyle. But here was a woman who proved his theories wrong. Forget everything he had said earlier. She should stay because of the new things she was constantly teaching him.

At long last the tires stopped before a familiar wooden building. The bar was nearly empty, save for Ash snoring on a pool table in the corner. "Look who the dog drug in," Ellen came around the counter wiping her hands, "Hello, boys." The wrinkle lines around her eyes deepened. "Abby, hon, it's great to see you."

She couldn't keep the smile away. "Hi, Ellen, it's good to see you, too." Hugs were shared around. The back doors swung open and none other than Jo Harvelle stalked in. She was the same as the last time: straight blonde hair, tank top over her apron, combat boots clomping.

She paused, seeing the newcomers, inspecting each one. Her head tilted to the side upon seeing Abigail. "Hey, girl, long time no see."

Abby stick out one hip, hands on her waist. "Miss me?"

Jo and Abigail embraced. "Every day." Once the girls pulled apart Jo proceeded to greet the Winchesters. "So you've been rolling with these two."

"There is never a dull moment," Abby grinned, "they keep me on my toes."

* * *

Jo's room was painted shades of blue with a plush white rug and pillows suffocating the bed; not decorations that would be expected. A Beatles poster held court above a simple desk. Not much had changed since the last time Abby stepped over the threshold. Jo sat cross legged on the bed, patted the space beside her.

"So tell me about yourself," she prompted once the other girl was comfortable. "How's college been?" They shared small talk and recent events with one another, catching up like the old friends they were. Then Jo asked what she obviously wanted to say. "The Winchesters, huh?"

"What do you mean?"

"I think you know."

"I told you, we met at a bar. They needed help and stayed with me for a couple days." Abigail felt her face heating up despite best efforts. Jo offered a deadpan look only somebody who truly knew Abigail could accomplish.

"Please Abs. They are cuties, don't try to deny it because you know it's true-especially Dean. So which is your type? The tall, intelligent, level-headed hunk or the strong, impulsive, protective charmer?" Jo teased. Abby nearly pushed her off the mattress, then hid her blush with a pillow. But Jo was relentless. "Is it Dean? Or Sam? Oh my gosh, It's Dean." Abigail felt the temperature had risen twenty degrees. Her blonde friend's smirk indicated Jo had her answer.

"Please don't tell. I'll tell him if it is the appropriate time."

"Meaning you probably won't," she concluded then threw her arms up in surrender. "Fine, it's none of my business. But if you don't, can I hit that up?" The laugh that came from Abigail was strained.

A cough from the door drew the girls' attention. Dean stood politely in the hall, "Hey, Abs, you sleepin' in here tonight?" He gazed around the room appreciatively.

"Um…" she glanced to Jo, who looked back with raised eyebrows. "No, I'll be there in a minute."

Dean nodded and before leaving pointed a thumb to the poster. "The Beatles, really?"

"I like them," Jo retorted defensively. Then she turned to Abigail. "What do you two do at night?"

"You act like we're fourteen," she groaned in embarrassment, "we share a bed, nothing more. It helps both of us sleep better. I don't get nightmares as often." The final comment was said softer and Jo immediately sobered. She had not been on many hunts, but she understood the effect they had, especially on regular hunters. Especially on her friend.

"Are they getting bad again?" Abby shrugged, mentioned that they were not like before. The girls left the conversation at that. A few minutes later Abigail kissed Jo's cheek goodnight, crawled off the bed. Padding a few doors down she passed what she assumed to be either Sam snoring or a woodchipper. Dean was propped against the headboard reading when she entered, covers already turned down. She rested her head across his legs to identify the book cover.

"'Of Mice and Men'. Interesting."

"I can read more than picture books," he rolled his eyes.

"Is that what you call those magazines with the scantily-clad women?" His eyes shifted to her laying perpendicular to his body.

"This George dude, he's like the only family Lennie has. Makes you feel for the guy."

"Maybe it's the other way around. Lennie might be the only family George has and that's why he is so protective of him; even though he is smaller, George is like an older brother in how he constantly looks out for Lennie, always thinking of him in his decisions. Reminds me of somebody else I know," she pointedly commented.

Dean was slightly taken aback. Before, he had felt a connection to Lennie, a man without a home who never truly belonged anywhere; who people were constantly making sacrifices for because of his mistakes; but after what she had said, he saw the similarities between himself and George.

He closed the book and put it aside.

"Don't you want to know how it ends?"

"Not right now." Abigail then thought of how Steinbeck concluded the novela and thought it best he not read to the end. The two stretched out under the blankets. "What were you and Jo talking about?"

"Oh, just catching up and… girl stuff." One arm folded over her torso and Abigail was grateful the light was out; her face was heating up again. She could practically hear Jo's smirk from down the hall.

"Goodnight, Dean."

"Goodnight, Abs."

The next morning Ellen was found in the kitchen making eggs. When told she didn't need to, she replied, "I know. But it's not often we have company stay the night. And you three have been on the road so long I can't imagine the last time you had a properly home cooked meal." The Winchesters, Ash, Ellen and Abigail were seated when Jo emerged yawning. Wiggling her eyebrows she asked, "How did everybody sleep last night?" popping the 'p'. Abby faked a smile and replied a bit too pleasantly.

Too soon it was time to go. Abby drug her feet packing, to which Dean groaned and slapped his hand against the door frame. He wanted to get on Lilith's trail as quickly as possible, which was reasonable, expect that they had virtually no leads. Once everything was loaded, everyone congregated at the car.

"You come back any time," Ellen instructed, passing out hugs. "Abby, you keep an eye on these boys," she smiled.

Abigail promised, "I'll try. Love you." She reached Jo and the two squeezed each other. "I'll see you soon." Ash offered a bone-crushing hug to her and a firm handshake and clap on the back for the Winchesters. The three of them stood on the front steps as Sam, Dean and Abigail settled into the classic Impala.

"Where to now?"


	15. Chapter 15

**Hello everyone! This chapter may be a bit awkward but there is some insight from wonderful Sam that is muy importante! Enjoy!**

Abigail groaned as she struggled to the edge of the bed and practically rolled off then slunk into the bathroom. Her lower stomach was in pain, which was an indicator of what was soon to come. Sure as night, by the afternoon her period had started. Normally it was accompanied by a few moderate cramps, but this week was particularly painful. She medicated her way through the day, offering no indication anything was wrong. But the next morning, Abigail was the last out of bed, and only then because Dean drug her by her ankles out of the sheets.

"Please not today," she begged. "I cannot sit in a car all day while we drive across the country in search of Lilith. We have no idea where she even is, what's the point?" She attempted to dissuade the brothers.

This was the opposite of her normally upbeat attitude and Dean was slightly concerned. "Abs, what's wrong?" Sam had a suspicion, having lived with Jess, which was confirmed by her admission.

"Do you need anything? Aspirin, chocolate, anything?" he asked, knowing she was probably miserable. She had been with them for a few months now and this was the first time she had shown any discomfort at her monthly cycle. So it must be bad.

Abigail blushed, "Actually, some pads and tampons." Dean's reaction was priceless to an outsider: his lips pursed into a thin line, eyes diverted to anywhere but the female in the room. She scribbled a list detailing what she required, which Sam accepted. Of course he was slightly embarrassed by the situation, but Abigail seldom asked much. This was the least they could do.

After reviewing the paper in his hand, Sam reached for his jacket. "I'll be back soon." Dean looked bemused.

"What? No! Absolutely not! I will get it." He heroically snatched it from Sam's meaty hands and with a quick kiss to the top of her head, stepped out the door.

"Dean! Can you get an ice cream bar?" she called. His thumbs-up was seen before the motel door clicked shut.

* * *

Dean was internally mortified as he stood in the feminine hygiene aisle hunting for the desired brand and size. Why were there so many options? All he needed was some woman to turn the corner to find him struggling and offer some assistance. That would certainly be the end of him. When a grandma came into view his heart nearly stopped. But she stayed at the end of the aisle, peering at what he called "old people diapers". _Good, stay over there_. Perhaps it was imagination, but Dean swore the woman glanced at him with a smile, as though silently praising him for his dedication to help some young woman out, presumably as a husband or a father. Finally spotting them, he snatched the boxes before somebody else could see him. He could not get to the other side of the store fast enough. The cashier was a boy, probably nineteen or twenty, complete with acne. Nonchalantly he scanned everything but asked, "hard day for the lady?"

"You could say that," Dean muttered, hands shoved into his pockets. Plastic bag gripped in hand, he headed for the door. Until the stupid kid called, "Sir, you forgot your tampons!" Awesome.

Safely having returned from his escapade, Dean emptied the bag before Abigail, who popped two pills into her mouth immediately; then scooping her other belongings up, placed a kiss on Dean's cheek and made a beeline for the bathroom. Dean flopped down, pulling the mini pie he purchased close. Sam was observing him, trying to gauge how he was reacting to this new adventure.

"Doin' alright there, man?"

"Yeah I'm good. Any man worth his salt should be able to buy a woman her _items_." For lack of a better term.

"Why so eager earlier?"

He shrugged, "Abigail needed it."

Sam left the conversation at that, returned to packing but his mind was occupied. He recognized the look of awe on his brother's face whenever she was in the room. He used to feel the same way when he was around Jess. Abigail had Dean wrapped around her pinky finger and Sam knew it. Sometimes it boggled his mind how they seemed so...right for each other, despite having the capacity to be two complete opposites. He chalked it up to the "opposites attract" rule in nearly every aspect. He couldn't help rolling his eyes at them, though. The way they flirted with each other, yet neither would make a move. Abigail was concerned with disrupting the peace; but she was also wary for another reason, possibly something that involved a past relationship. Dean was stubborn and too thick-headed to recognize or admit that he cared for this girl-she was more than a one-night stand; and he did not believe himself worthy of having a relationship, either because of their current lives or his past. He still regretted dragging her this deep into a hunting life, Sam knew.

They also complemented one another physically: although both boys were fast, they were more designed for power, whereas Abigail was built for speed and precision. Of course she could be plenty powerful when need be, but her quick wit and rapid mind distinguished her. Her nimble fingers as they flew over a keyboard; the way she perched on the balls of her feet as though ready to fly at any moment; the tendency of her arms to rest freely at her sides. She walked with a bounce in her step but at the same time almost floated. She could be so graceful—yet she could occasionally be a complete klutz. But any soul who met her could not help loving Abigail Lucero.


	16. Chapter 16

It was the calm before the storm when the hunters spent the evening in a '50s not far from the motel. The waitresses balanced red baskets of fries and burgers while gliding across the checkered floor on roller blades. The hunters had received a call from a boy claiming to be John Winchester's son; it was true that they had a younger brother, but he had been eaten by ghouls. It was difficult on both boys, learning of the brother they had no previous knowledge of, only to have been lured into a trap.

The hours passed, the drinks came at a steady rate, the mood lightened. They shared stories and jokes, laughed loud enough to draw attention from neighboring tables. But the trio gave no indication of caring.

The conversation had shifted at some point to past relationships. Sam had finished relaying the tale of how he once walked into the motel room to see Dean handcuffed to the bed and his cash stolen. The object of the story blushed it off with a sip of his drink. Pointing the bottle he asked, "Abs, who was your first?"

"My first kiss?"

"No, your first time."

"Wouldn't you like to know."

"I would. That's why I'm asking." He met her gaze with equal challenge. She looked down, laughed uneasily.

"I'm not going to say. If I do, I sound like a slut. If I don't, you'll make fun of me for being a virgin."

"No we won't," Dean promised but Abigail shook her head.

"No, Winchester. My lips are sealed." And they were. Her secret was going to remain just that and no wheedling from the boys would change her mind. Dean was not sure how to feel: impressed, certainly, but what for? Because she might be a virgin? Or because of how strong willed she was? This woman drove him up the walls trying to figure her out.

Karaoke night and at some hour people began singing. Some were decent, others were wailing into a microphone that should be unplugged. She must have had more drinks than she thought, because when Dean suggested she go to the stage, it took little persuasion for Abigail to do so. Standing at the edge of the table she steadied a gaze at him.

"Do not think I am doing this for you." Tipping the remaining dregs into her mouth she set the glass down with finality and turned on her heel, marching with confident strides up the stairs and to center stage.

"Sure, sweetheart," he smirked. Abigail was out of earshot but Sam heard and chuckled.

Abigail was fine until the music began. Gazing over the restaurant the realization of what she was doing struck her between the eyes. She was an awful singer. And with alcohol in her system...people were going to throw tomatoes from their sandwiches at her. But never one to quit, she opened her mouth when the letters on the screen were highlighted, even though she knew the song by heart, and prayed she could be somewhat decent.

 _I never knew_

 _I never knew that everything was falling through_

 _That everyone I knew was waiting on a queue_

 _To turn and run when all I needed was the truth_

 _But that's how it's got to be_

 _It's coming down to nothing more than apathy_

 _I'd rather run the other way than stay and see_

 _The smoke and who's still standing when it clears and_

 _Everyone knows I'm in_

 _Over my head_

 _Over my head_

 _With eight seconds left in overtime_

 _She's on your mind_

 _She's on your mind_

 _Let's rearrange_

 _I wish you were a stranger I could disengage_

 _Just say that we agree and then never change_

 _Soften a bit until we all just get along_

 _But that's disregard_

 _You find another friend and you discard_

 _As you lose the argument in a cable car_

 _Hanging above as the canyon comes between and_

 _Everyone knows I'm in_

 _Over my head_

 _Over my head_

 _With eight seconds left in overtime_

 _She's on your mind_

 _She's on your mind_

 _Everyone knows I'm in_

 _Over my head_

 _Over my head_

 _With eight seconds left in overtime_

 _She's on your mind_

 _She's on_

 _And suddenly I become a part of your past_

 _I'm becoming the part that don't last_

 _I'm losing you and its effortless_

 _Without a sound we lose sight of the ground_

 _In the throw around_

 _Never thought that you wanted to bring it down_

 _I won't let it go down till we torch it ourselves_

 _Everyone knows I'm in_

 _Over my head_

 _Over my head_

 _With eight seconds left in overtime_

 _She's on your mind_

 _She's on your mind_

 _Everyone knows_

 _She's on your mind_

 _Everyone knows I'm in_

 _Over my head_

 _I'm in over my head_

 _I'm over my_

 _Everyone knows I'm in_

 _Over my head_

 _Over my head_

 _With eight seconds left in overtime_

 _She's on your mind_

 _She's on your mind_

Sam and Dean watched with slack jaws. They never knew she had a voice. Abigail never even sang in the shower. But here she was, completely immersed in the lyrics and melody, singing the words from memory, eyes closed as she gripped the microphone. With the last syllable her eyes opened to a cheering audience. Two men were clapping and whistling loudest of all. Abigail smiled broadly and with waves and blown kisses practically skipped back to her seat. Her triumphant air said _take that, Winchester._ And he happily did. After that, Abigail shared her voice with the world: in the car, in the shower, cleaning her gun.

* * *

Everything spiraled after that night. Dean had a message from Castiel when he woke; they found the rogue angel's vessel, Jimmy, who inadvertently put his family in danger by returning home; then Sam was locked in Bobby's panic room to dry him out from demon blood; but he escaped; the brothers had a throwdown and Sam left with Ruby to kill Lilith; but in doing so he broke the final seal and set Lucifer free.

 **I hope you are enjoying this story as much as I am writing it-or even more! The song is "Over my Head" by The Fray. I was listening to it earlier today in the car and it stuck in my mind while I was typing.**


	17. Chapter 17

There was the elephant in the room of the Apocalypse. Sam was clearly devastated in having started it, which was intensified by Dean's disappointment and sense of betrayal. Abigail stayed out of their sibling drama as much as possible, but this was the exception. "Dean, you have to forgive him. Sam is sorry and if he doesn't know you are with him, he might run out again," she told Dean when the two of them were alone. He did not like it, but agreed to speak with Sam. When, she did not know, for nothing seemed drastically different between them for some time. But after a while tensions began loosening ever so slightly.

The motel they were crashing in was decorated in revolting shades of green and yellow. The carpet looked older than the dinosaurs and besides two beds and a table, the room was poorly furnished-not even pictures on the wall. But it was a place to rest nonetheless.

Sam was taking a walk. Abigail brushed her teeth and stared at her reflection over the small sink with exposed plumbing that slightly dripped when hot water was turned on. Her mind wandered around and through a single thought. By now, Abigail had embraced the truth that she had feelings for the elder Winchester. It was infuriating: they were more than simple friends but she did not know to what extent. Regular friends don't flirt with each other, don't share a bed. She feared of severing their relationship by doing anything. Dean considered her family and she would rather have that than no Dean at all.

She exited the bathroom and turned down the sheets on her side of the bed. Dean's open arms greeted her. Tonight he was only wearing sweats. Abby turned away so to hide the slight blush creeping up her cheeks. She had always been modest.

He purred into her ear, "What's wrong? Can't handle being this close to godliness?" She laughed but it was off-key and came from the throat, not the stomach.

"Sure, Dean; but do not put your cold feet on me when you're freezing in the middle of the night."

"Like this?" he teased and she jumped when a foot ran down her calf. In retaliation she flipped onto her other side and slid her fingers around his waist, slowly working their way up his rib cage. He squirmed and a squeak popped out. She giggled and trailed her nails down his side, causing Dean Winchester, Man of Steel, to let out a chortle.

"I didn't know you were ticklish," she cooed, trying for the base of his neck.

"I'm...not!" he protested between gasps. He tried curling into a fetal position but she grabbed his foot. Dean completely lost it.

Sam entered to the scene of a full-fledged tickle fight: Abigail half-hanging off the bed, tears leaking down her face, sending pathetic wacks of the pillow to Dean who was running his fingers over every inch of skin he could reach.

"Sam...help...me!"

"No, Sammy! This is payback!"

"I'm not even going to ask what it's payback for," he grinned and headed to the bathroom.

When Abigail thought she would either die or Dean would let up, he lifted the hem of her shirt and blew a raspberry on her stomach. Convulsions of laughter racked her body, arched her back. Her feet kicked uselessly. Dean pinned her arms with one hand while he continued to blow them across her skin: stomach, sides, forearms, biceps, neck. Her screeching was likely heard and cursed by every other motel resident.

He lifted his head to see her face and grinned maniacally. When he lowered it again and she felt his lips brush her neck once more, Abigail prepared herself for another round. Dean gently nipped and sucked the soft skin. She gasped, breath hitched in her throat. He pulled her fully onto the bed and his lips began skipping along her jawline; butterfly kisses accompanied. She tilted her chin to allow him a better angle. Abigail was still attempting to catch her breath, but the reason had now altered. Her immobilized hands were shifted to above her head. Pausing long enough to glance into her eyes he saw acceptance. Of him, of what he was doing, of who he was. Abigail leaned upward and joined her lips to his. (On the other side of the door, Sam noticed that the room had grown curiously silent). After a moment they retracted. Breaths mingled and eyes stared. At the same time Dean licked his, Abigail bit her lower lip. He came down to her again. As her brain demuddled, her thoughts were incoherent but one splashed her consciousness, despite not having any actual formulation. She just knew that she was kissing Dean. Dean Winchester. Against his mouth she smiled, inadvertently breaking off the kiss.

Sam exited the bathroom. Dean's scowl and Abigail's tilted upside-down gaze greeted him. "Am I interrupting something?" he raised an eyebrow.

"No, come in."

"Yes, go away." The two voices spoke in synchronism. Dean looked down at the woman under his arm and changed his answer with a sigh. "Nah, it's okay." Sam shoved his items into his bag and crawled under the covers, opened a book and burrowed himself into it. He tried to ignore the couple a few feet away.

Dean's lips were pink; Abigail imagined how hers must look. His eyes shone hungrily as they searched her face. His chest heaved. Dean flopped onto the pillows slightly irked. He loved Sammy, but the guy could be such a bumbling puppy at times. For a long time they faced one another in silence. Even after Sam turned out his light, the moonlight illuminated their faces to the other. It took a long time for either to fall asleep, but eventually both did.

* * *

Abby squeezed her closed eyes tightly, hoping for sleep to grab her again. She did not want to prepare for another day when there was a perfectly warm bed still available. When it was obvious she was not going to sleep again her eyes cracked open. Dean was on his side, one arm curled under his head as he watched her. "Good morning." She was reminded of everything from last night. He noticed the blush in her cheeks and chuckled.

"What do we do now?" She spoke in low tones, for Sam continued to snore.

With a cocky smile and suggestive tone he offered, "Well for one, we could finish what we started."

"What did we start?" With a sigh she closed her eyes, organizing her thoughts. "Dean, listen to me. I like you. But I am not going to have sex. I'm saving myself." With pursed lips she awaited his reaction. It was as expected-she knew the look from the same words at previous times. She had not always said this: even if nobody else did, she would consider herself a slut for sleeping around the way so many women did. And that was not a word that boosted self-confidence. Abigail had come to find she could not be confident in herself and still face life head-on. So she began telling prospective boyfriends what she expected right off the bat. Not all of them had respected that and left soon afterwards. But it did expose the honest and good guys. With anxiety she spoke the next words, heart thudding at what his answer would be. "If we're going to be something, I have to know you will respect that."

Dean's character frowned, but inside was a tumult of emotions and thoughts. He wanted her. Not just physically, but with every speck of his existence and in every form of the phrase. But hunters couldn't have relationships, especially not the way they lived. But maybe, just maybe, something could work. _You idgit!_ Bobby's voice of reason yelled. _If you let her go now, you will never find another girl like her._

"Okay," he nodded. She stared and he repeated himself. Abigail cupped his cheek and whispered a thanks. _Maybe this really can work out,_ she thought.

 **For those of you who have been waiting for Dean and Abigail to have their moment... here it is! (Though it may not be as you had expected). Personally, I like having a strong female who believes in herself and does not need the affirmation of men, nor does she conform to what society says, but I would like to know what you think. Hope you enjoyed!**


	18. Chapter 18

New relationships can be awkward, as Abigail knew from personal experience. Yet with Dean, there were minimal uncomfortable moments. Dean wanted to wait to tell Sam, but Abigail threatened to tell him in her own way if Dean didn't do it himself. Sam laughed when told, muttered an "it's about time." Like new couples, they wanted to be around each other as much as possible. The two could be found curled up before falling asleep; Dean with his arm across her seat back; holding hands while they walked down the street. It surprised her that Dean was a person who seemed to crave physical contact; but then again, it was not that surprising the more she considered his history. When they were together, he wanted to be touching her in some way. She thought at first it was a sense of protection, but later began to wonder if it was for himself more than her.

The Winchesters and Abigail still worked cases the same as before, ganking monsters better than the majority of hunters. Once had Dean tried to make a heroic act when they were sneaking into the nest; but Abigail put a stop to that immediately. She refused for him to put himself in harm's way for her sake; they had an argument that eventually ended in an agreement: he could go first or "whatever you want to do", but was forbidden from jeopardizing himself or Sam for her.

But for the most part, they seemed perfect for each other. Outsiders assumed they had been dating for years. Sam was amazed Abigail had evaded entering their lives earlier. He appreciated the change in Dean when she was around: his eyes brightened, his lips curled upward slightly at the corners, he walked with a new swagger-not a "ladies man" saunter, but a "I have the best woman holding my hand" bounce in his step. He was proud of the fact they were together, anyone could see that. It was something new and healthy for him to be proud of, rather than being good at his job (which was certainly something to be proud of, as well).

Abigail was different, too: she appeared more relaxed, more at ease with herself. Her movements were more defined, her composure lighter, though she had already been one of the happiest people on Earth.

Seeing them together, though it made him miss having someone, filled Sam with joy for them, that they were able to find one another. Granted, their relationship could end and they would go separate ways, but for the time being, they were happy. And Sam was happy.

 **I know this chapter is not long, but I think it is important and a good transition. Stay tuned, the next ones should be more exciting!**


	19. Chapter 19

Abigail cried when Dean let Sam walk away. The younger man did not trust himself after letting the greatest evil in history free from its cage. Dean thought it was for the best. She did not. She loved Sam, even if they were not related, and was in pain when he left. Dean didn't see her cry; but she was sullen for several days. Castiel joined them for a while; she enjoyed the awkward angel's presence, for his ignorant ways made her smile. But in quiet moments, like driving, she noticed the missing bushy-haired boy. Dean was hurting, too. But he was also upset and still carried a sense of betrayal and distrust that would be hard to let go.

After driving for sixteen hours, the two agreed to crash at the next motel. Dean would even pay the extra expense if it was a five-star hotel. He just wanted somewhere to lay his head. They found a cheap place in Kansas City, where they were greeted by a missionary out front. Dean briefly spoke to Cas on the phone, gave him their location. Then the couple was promptly asleep.

Dean's phone buzzed on the nightstand. He groped around until finding it, flipped it open to give Castiel an earful. He stopped mid sentence and sat up. Abigail had groaned and buried her head under the pillow until she felt the bed shift. She crawled from her haven to Dean reaching into the fridge for a beer. Sam was on the other line. She listened to the side of the conversation she could hear, then had the uncontrollable urge to pee. Abigail exited the bathroom to see Dean finishing the conversation.

"We're weaker when we're together, Sam. Whatever we have-love, family-they will use it against us." She paused, suddenly feeling much colder. If relationships were so dangerous, why had he let her stay this long? What were they doing?

Dean closed his eyes for a long moment after ending the call. He looked up to her standing in the corner with her arms crossed, hugging herself tightly.

"How is Sam?" She decided to avoid the topic for the time being.

"He wants to be let back in."

"And you said no." He looked mournfully at her, assessing something deeper than she let on. He crossed the room, rubbed her arms. He felt goosebumps under his calloused fingers.

"Did you really mean what you said? About relationships being toxic and dangerous and making us weak?" He groaned inwardly. Why did she have to hear that?

"Sweetheart, I didn't mean it that way."

"It sounded like you did, Dean."

"I didn't mean it with you. Of course this is dangerous, but… I like having you around. I need you. Please, can we talk about this in the morning?" She remained unmoving, scanning his face. In her mind, Abigail was deciding whether or not to let it go or pull this all the way into the light. But she was tired, and sleep deprivation made her grouchy. Doing this now would only cause a fight. So she allowed Dean to lead her back to the bed, where he lowered her into his lap and smoothed her hair. She curled into him, relaxing to his breaths. Soon, she was gliding back into sleep. Dean gently laid her down and pulled the covers over both of them. He really did need her around...as much as he needed Lucifer back in the cage… and as much as he needed Castiel to stay away until morning...

* * *

"Abs?" He looked around him in panic. The room had the same layout as the one he fell asleep in but the furnishings were different. A cracked mirror hung on the wall, the alarm was busted, no mattress rested under him. The broken window gave a perfect view of the trashed and desolate city. "What…" Dean muttered, eyebrows drawing together.

Long story short, he quickly discovered this was the future. A future where the croatoin virus ran rampage. Bobby's house was deserted with suspicious evidence of foul play. The camp in the picture at Bobby's directed him to a refuge for survivors. When he saw Baby, hope began to brighten. Until he saw her deplorable condition. And was jumped from behind. But before being knocked out, he swore seeing himself.

* * *

It was uncanny, to have a conversation with oneself when it is not through a mirror. But that was exactly what Dean was doing. He felt like the two of them should be reading thoughts instead of speaking out loud. It took a bit of convincing to bring Future Dean around to the truth. But once they were on the same page, Dean wanted to ask the pressing questions bubbling in his stomach.

"Where's Abigail?" Future Dean's shoulders stiffened. Dean's heart slammed against his ribcage. "She isn't…"

"She is fine," his older self snapped, "As good as can be expected." Dean sighed in relief. There was a pause before Future Dean elaborated. "One of the infected bit her on a supply run. We got out okay but she wasn't going to last. Chuck had this theory of cutting away the infected part. Turns out there is some brain in that man. But she lost her hand as a result." At least she was alive.

"How about Sam?"

"Sam died in Detroit. We parted ways five years ago and I haven't heard from him since."

"We didn't go back and look for him?"

"After the Croatian virus spread it hit the major cities first. Sam didn't make it out." Dean's head slumped to his chest. Sammy was gone. Five years ago…that was when he was from. Is it possible that the conversation he had with him last night was what caused them to permanently split? He prayed not. Older Dean made to leave, paused and looked over his shoulder. "You do not leave this room, understand? I have enough to deal with already without everyone in camp seeing a me-look-alike from five years ago running around."

"You don't trust yourself?"

He deadpanned him with a stare that said _did you really just ask that?_ "No. Absolutely not." With that he closed the door behind him. Dean couldn't blame him, really. But he should know himself well enough to know Dean Winchester always finds a way out. Make sure the place is solid concrete if you want to lock him up.

Dean hated this new reality. Chuck was a pestering suck up (not that he wasn't before), Castiel was a hippie, Sam was dead, and he had yet to find Abigail. But sight through the window cut off his _insightful_ conversation with Cas. A tall figure weaved her way around a group of disgruntled people. The confidence in her step, the high chin, the straight shoulders; there was only one person whom that could be. He grinned and hurried after her, nearly breaking into a run. "Abigail!"

She turned and her eyebrows drew together in confusion. "Dean? But I thought you were on a mission." His anxious footsteps halted when he caught sight of her right hand—or lack thereof.

A crushing weight threw his heart into a cage. "You're not my Abigail, are you?"

"What are you talking about?" she demanded, hand hovering over the knife on her belt. A gunshot sounded and she bolted in that direction, Dean following. Future Dean had returned. And he had shot a man in cold blood.

"What the hell?" All eyes moved between the two look-alikes. "He's not from around here," Future Dean offered. Abigail's head swiveled between the two men while she tried to comprehend what was before her.

"You two have some explaining to do." Grabbing both boys by the collar, she dragged them into Future Dean's cabin and slammed the door.

"Somebody will explain what is going on right now or I might shoot both of you."

"You don't want to do that. Or he-" Dean threw a thumb to his older self "-won't exist." She made a face.

"He's right. Abby, you should sit down for this."


	20. Chapter 20

**I left out much of the dialogue from the episode. We've all seen it, I assume, so you don't need me repeating all of it back to you. Hope you enjoy!**

Dean sat patiently at the table, accompanied by a drugged Castiel, a Chuck who had not changed much, and a woman. He listened to the argument issuing from an adjoining room. "Dean, you from five years ago is on the other side of that door!"

"What do you want me to do? He needs to see what the world is so when Zachariah zaps him back, he'll know what has to be done!"

"Do you really believe that?" There was a pause. "If he dies, doesn't that mean you die?"

"Zachariah won't let him die. Abby, trust me." The door opened and the couple entered, one looking sullen and ready to shoot something, the other calm and collected, though Dean knew himself well enough to recognize the frustration in the creased forehead.

"So what do you propose, fearless leader?" Castiel spoke up with a gleam of a smirk.

"We're going to do what we've been trying for years: to kill the Devil." Everyone stared at the gun on the table that could supposedly kill all creatures. Today those rumors would be tested. One way or another, someone was going to die, whether it be Lucifer or a friend.

* * *

While the small group heading out on the mission loaded the cars, Dean stood to the side with Future Abigail. He observed her Dean barking orders. His face seemed to be permanently etched into a scowl. "He sure isn't a saint," Dean scoffed.

"Who of us here is?" she smiled sadly. "He may not be the Dean Winchester I first fell in love with or the Dean from five years ago—" she looked him in the eye, "—but I'm not the same woman I was back then, either. We've all had to make sacrifices; Dean has made more than our fair share keeping this group safe. We all owe him for that." Future Dean glanced up from loading the Jeep and grinned at her. He tossed the same army green duffel bag into the back and came over. Winding his fingers through Future Abby's, he placed a chaste kiss on her cheek.

"We're ready to go. You goin' to be alright, Babe?"

She smiled up at him. "Of course I will be. I'm more worried about you lot going out there. Please be safe and look after them."

Future Dean held up his hand. "Scouts honor. Lucifer is done on this Earth." The two of them shared a gentle kiss like they had all day and the world was not in the middle of the apocalypse. "Love you," he murmured.

"I love you more." Dean shifted away uncomfortably. He felt as though he was intruding on something private, even though that was him and his girlfriend. Future Dean stole another peck from her lips before climbing into the driver seat.

Abigail turned her attention back to Dean. "Whatever you see out there, I know you'll make the right decision when the time comes."

"How do you sound so confident?"

She placed a hand on the side of his face. Dean leaned into it. He missed his Abs so badly. "Because you don't know how to be selfish; you do what's best for the most people. Don't forget that I can see right through you," she teased. "And a word of advice: I am always right."

"Hey, where are Jo and Ellen?" Her face darkened. A stony and guarded Abigail was very different from the version he knew.

"They're getting ready to leave." The last people were getting into the cars. She placed a kiss on his cheek and gave him a shove. Future Abigail watched as the caravan drove away. Dean twisted in his seat to watch her grow smaller. The ride with Cas was generally silent, save for a few words here and there. He was admittedly shocked to learn Cas no longer was an angel. But it explained a lot, like the pill popping, for instance.

* * *

When the caravan reached the city, it was silent. Dean hated the lack of movement on the streets, save for blowing trash. He felt exposed, almost confident they were being watched from the buildings. But they reached a semi-safe lookout without surprise.

"Second story window. They'll never see us coming," Future Dean declared, handing the binoculars off to Cas. Dean knew when people lied to him-especially when that person was himself. Requesting a moment alone, he pulled Future Dean away from the small group of survivors.

"What are you not telling us?" When met with hesitation, he threatened to tell the others.

"Wait." Future Dean grabbed Dean's arm. "This place should be crawling with Croats. Where are they?" The realization dawned. This was a trap. "They're the decoys," he continued when he saw the light in his younger self's eyes.

Dean reeled on his future self. "You promised Abigail to keep these people safe!"

"And that is why I had her stay behind. Do you think I could live with myself if she were here?"

"How can you live with yourself anyways?"

"Just wait; you'll understand one of these days."

"Something is broken in you. These are our friends! I would never do that."

"You wouldn't. But right now, people are counting on me to kill Lucifer and save the world."

"I am not letting you do this."

"Are you going to stop me?" he challenged.

"Yes." A fist slammed into Dean's jaw and promptly everything went black.

The sound of gunfire roused him. He was alone. He needed to find the others, try to help them. Rounding a corner, he saw Future Dean on the ground, the colt abandoned several feet away. With a twist of the foot on his neck, the life drained from his eyes. Dean was now alone in this future world, face-to-face with the devil in a crisp white suit. He turned and Dean was horrified and momentarily confused to see Sam instead.

"Hello, Dean." Dean struggled for words.

"Kill me, then."

Sam-no, Lucifer- frowned at the ground behind Dean. "Don't you think that will be a little...redundant? I like you, Dean. I want you to live. There is something special about you." Dean was trembling, tears glassing his eyes. "Goodbye, Dean. We will see each other again soon." And with that, Lucifer had the audacity to walk away.

"You better kill me now!" He had his attention. "Because if you don't, I will find a way to kill you. And I won't stop until I do," Dean vowed.

"I know you won't," Sam's body took a step closer. He sounded sincere. "But I know you will never say yes to Michael. And you will never hurt Sam. Whatever you do, we will always end up here." He gestured to the rose garden around them. "I win." He smirked at the tear now rolling down Dean's face. Tears from his broken heart. With a flash of lightning, Lucifer was gone.

A flutter of wings from behind and Zechariah stood with satisfaction etched into his features. With a touch to his forehead, Dean was standing in his motel room. The one with decent furnishings. With _his_ Abigail sleeping in the bed, oblivious to what had taken place. Relief swelled inside him at her sight. He was home.

"Are you ready to say yes to Michael?" Zechariah prompted, confident that the answer he would hear would be the one he wanted. He was disappointed. "What do you mean, 'nah'? Did you not learn your lesson?"

"I did learn a lesson; just not the one you wanted." Dean stepped between the bed and the angel, determined now more than ever to protect her.

"Then I will have to teach it to you again!" The angel advanced. In less than an eye twitch, the two humans were gone. He looked around, coming to the realization of what had happened.

Dean and Abigail were on a dark street corner, Cas before them. Dean had not been so happy to see this angel-however uptight- in a long time. Abigail woke lying on a damp ground in nothing more than her pajamas.

"Dean, where….what?" He helped her up and crushed her in a hug.

"I'll explain everything later. I'm just-" he held her head, examined her face, placed a kiss on her lips, even took her right hand in his just to make sure it really was her. All of her. Once convinced of her well-being, he turned to Cas. "Good timing, man." With a hand on his shoulder, he added, "Don't ever change."


	21. Chapter 21

" _If beauty is all in the eye_

 _Of the beholder then I_

 _Wish you could see_

 _The love for you that lives in me_

 _And you would know you have my heart_

 _If you could see, what I see?_

 _That a treasure's what you are_

 _If you could see, what I see?_

 _Created to be the only one for me_

 _If you could see, what I see?_

 _I know there are days_

 _When you feel_

 _So much less than ideal_

 _Wondering what I see in you…"_

 _Geoff Moore and the Distance "If You Could See What I See"_

The boys were out when a knock came at the door. Abigail frowned and set the towel down from drying her wet hair. Gun in hand, she opened the motel door a crack. "Jo!" Throwing the door open fully, she pulled the blonde girl in for a hug. "Honey, what are you doing here?"

"I got a little banged up on a hunt," Jo admitted. Abby pulled away and observed her more closely.

"How did you know where to find me?"

"I'm psychic. I pinged your phone," she sighed at Abigail's arched eyebrow. In their world, you really could be psychic, so best not to joke. "A ghoul, nothing too horrendous. But it got the jump on me. I knew I should have checked out that noise more closely," she chastised herself. Abigail returned with the first-aid kit and a wet rag and began playing doctor.

"Rookie mistake," Abby teased her friend, "but you'll get it next time."

"That's just it. It's probably high-tailed it by now. This one is flighty."

"I'll help you. We'll track it down and take care of it together."

"What's with this 'I'? Aren't you still with the Winchesters?"

"Yeah, but with the apocalypse and everything else, they won't focus on much else. I'll go with you as soon as you're rested and have taken a shower. There is no way I am getting in a car with you smelling like that." Jo pretended to waft some stench toward Abigail.

"Oh, speaking of those boys, I heard a certain Winchester stole your heart." Abby rolled her eyes, slight smirk creeping into vision. Jo laughed, "so it is true. Well, as best friend I have to keep your interests in mind."

"No, Jo-"

"Yep." The blonde popped the p. Abigail groaned, imagining Dean tied to a chair while Jo shone a light in his face during interrogation. "Is it the one I'm thinking?"

"It's Sam." She laughed and Jo nearly fell off her seat from shock then tried to recover.

"Not to say that he isn't fine, but I don't think he's quite right for you, sweetheart."

"Good, because he isn't. I wanted to see what you would do. It is Dean." She smiled involuntarily at his name. Like the supportive girl friend she was, Jo squealed and wrapped the arm that was not half-wrapped around Abby's neck.

"Oh, girl! I am so happy for you! No boy is ever going to be good enough for you, but he's about as good as they come."

"Maybe you can have Sam and we'll be sisters."

"We already are sisters. And I love him, but Sam's not my type. Hey, if you and Dean ever break up, can I have a shot at him?" Jo teased.

"Sure," she laughed, "but depending on how bad the breakup is, I might have killed him."

"You would, too." Abby appeared mildly offended at the comment. "Tell me everything."

Abby blushed but she did love having someone around with whom she could be a girl. And this person was Joanna Beth Harville, no less. "He's surprisingly a good cuddler. One day I had a hangover-yeah, yeah, I know- so he cut my waffles and fed me breakfast. Whenever he wakes up at night, he always checks on me and will give me a kiss on the temple or the nose. If I try to get out of bed early, he grabs me around the waist and pulls me back. But if he wakes up first, he either watches me until I wake up or he will try to crawl out of bed without waking me up. When we're holding hands, he drags his thumb along my palm-" she took Jo's hand to demonstrate, "-which gives me shivers. And he is super protective. If someone is looking at me, he puts his arm around me or gives me a little kiss or does this cute thing where he rubs his nose along my cheekbone. I know, it's so cute. He is adorable-but also kind of scary-when he's jealous. I'll sometimes catch him looking at other women, though, but he doesn't do it often." Jo had been about ready to die while Abby was describing Dean's quirks and the sweet, small details of their relationship. But when she heard the last statement, Jo narrowed her eyes.

"That no-good, slimy-" she stopped at the look on the older girl's face.

"I think it's because we're not having sex. I love him for giving that up. It's a sacrifice for him, I know. I'm afraid he's going to get tired of me and waiting or he'll realize I'm not worth it. Jo, I'm afraid he's going to leave me." When she said that, she started crying. The hand that came to cover her mouth did little to hide the cries. Jo immediately sank to the ground before her and cradled her sister.

"Oh, honey, no. And if he does, I will kill him myself. I swear. But no, he is nothing like your last boyfriend. Dean has his baggage but if he uses that against you then he really isn't worth a damn." She pulled a tissue from her pocket. "The fact that he even agreed to that in the first place shows how much he wants to be with you." After a few minutes, Abigail began to calm down.

"I'm sorry," she sniffed.

"For what?" They shared a smile. "You must love him alot to be so scared."

"I don't-I never- Dean- what?" She stuttered. Jo raised an eyebrow to say _you sure about that?_ Abigail felt her face heat up.

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up." Jo reversed the roles. When Abby pointed out her arm, she waved it away. "I'm fine. Really. Let's not look like a disaster when those boys arrive."

* * *

"What do you mean, no?" Abigail demanded. Dean stood across from her with arms crossed. She mimicked his stance.

"I don't want you going on a hunt. There's too much going on and we need you here."

"What about Jo?"

"She can go home or stay here, I really don't care. But you're not running off with her for some weekend getaway while we're here trying to stop the freakin' apocalypse!" She narrowed her eyes dangerously.

"You are not the boss of me. I promised Jo I would help and that is exactly what I am going to do."

Jo seemed uncomfortable when she returned. "Look, Abby, I don't want to come between you two. Forget it."

"We can pull this off," she argued. Abby was fuming inside and wanted an excuse to get away for awhile. Jo glanced uneasily in the direction of Dean. "Come on, we can go and be back before the boys realize we're gone," she persisted. "I'll have your back and you'll have mine." Jo nodded, the gears spinning in her mind.

Jo decided it best not to bring up the argument between the normally-happy couple. Abigail was still blowing smoke from her ears when they slipped into Jo's truck and pulled away. It had been tricky to slip out of bed without waking Dean. But she had done so and closed the door quietly behind her. It was not far, a couple-hour drive. They listened to the radio and small-talked until Abby asked, "Does your mom know where you are?"

Jo pursed her lips. "She wasn't happy about it. She thinks I'm taking care of a ghost." Abby gave a pointed look. "I hate lying to her, but she never lets me go. I'm not a little kid anymore." Abby was sympathetic, knowing Ellen and how protective she was of her only daughter.

Jo parked the truck at a cemetery and the two shared a look before climbing out. "This is it's nest." Abby drew her machete from her bag and followed Jo into the dilapidated building. They found the ghoul nursing a wound. But it was not as damaged as it let on. There was still plenty of strength and speed left in the tank. Jo was thrown like a rag doll; Abby was bashed against the wall. The struggle was short-lived. While Abby lay on the ground and held it at bay at arm-length, with one clean cut Jo chopped off the head. The two girls then had the task of disposing of the body and the head. In an empty grave, they dumped the remains and lit a fire. Whoever was going to be buried in that hole the next day would have some company.

They were standing side-by-side when angry boots were heard from behind. They flipped around to come face-to-face with a furious Dean Winchester. Abigail's heart dropped into her stomach. He took a firm hold, thumbs digging into her bicep. "What do you think you're doing?" Dean pushed his face close to hers. Abby wrenched herself free from his grasp.

"What does it look like? You're a little late, we just finished." The tendons flexed in his jaw. Abigail held her ground, glaring back into his eyes with just as much vigor. Sam stood a few feet back.

"Dean, drop it. They're alright."

He turned on his brother. "You stay out of this! We are not finished," he pointed a finger at Abigail. "And clean the blood off your shirt." She looked down. In the first hints of dawn, she could make out the blood splatters covering her front. It was dried into her hair and on her face.

Jo and Abigail used water bottles rolling around the floorboards of her truck to clean themselves up as well as permitting. Jo approached the brothers, who were discussing something in low tones. "Dean, I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"

He sighed and pulled her into a hug. "Don't worry about it. I was worried." He had thought something had happened to his girls, to two of the women he most valued in life. Jo was not whom he had a problem with right now, anyway. She gave Sam a hug and Abby walked her to her truck, gave a bone-crushing embrace.

Jo climbed into her truck and leaned out the window. "Better fix your relationship, that's too good to throw away. I think he loves you." Abigail wasn't sure how to take those wise words from Jo.

"Bye, Jo. Love you." They kissed each other's cheek the way they learned from French movies when they were little, an old joke between them. Abby stepped back and watched Jo's truck spit out fumes as it roared away. She sighed and knew the blonde was right: this needed to be resolved. She wasn't very good about keeping a level head in an argument, though. And being yelled at only set Dean off more. _Do it for Jo_.

"Hey," she said when she approached the Impala. "Can I talk to you?" Dean followed her a short distance away. He waited for her to speak first. "Maybe you were right about the ghoul and we shouldn't have gone. But I wasn't going to leave Jo. And you have no right to talk to me like that. I am not going to follow you on a leash. Dating or not, it doesn't matter: do not boss me around again." Having said her peace, she crossed her arms and waited.

"You scared me. I woke up and you weren't there. With the world about to end, I need to know you are with us."

"Of course I am!"

"I need to know you're safe. I thought the angels had kidnapped you."

"We talked about this. You can't always protect me."

He drug a hand across his face. "I know. But you're my girlfriend. It's my _job_ to be worried about you." That was sweet.

"Your job is to not say yes to Michael."

"First and foremost, I am concerned about you and Sam. I don't really care what happens to me after that." Her throat tightened. Her frustration was replaced by a new anger.

"You should be! What will we do if you die? Or worse? You know Sam will do anything to bring you back. And I'll help him." The pain on his face was evident. That was not what he wanted to hear and she knew it. "You have to take care of yourself. You're stupid if you think it's noble to sacrifice yourself. You need to look out for yourself for me, if nothing else." She turned away to hide her eyes that were smarting. Dean didn't see why she couldn't understand. His first instinct had always been to protect Sam. His father had drilled it into him from an early age. And now he had the desire to protect someone else, too. She faced him so he could see the tears in her eyes. "I must not mean enough if you don't care about yourself."

"Abby," he caught her arm. "I love you." He said it. Dean had not intended to. His eyes widened, as did hers. But she showed no other signs at hearing the confession.

"No! You cannot say that to someone then not care about yourself! How am I going to feel if something happens to you? Quit trying to be selfless and think about that for a minute."

She then stomped to the Impala and slammed the door after crawling into the back, furiously wiping tears away.

The car was silent. Abby claimed the backseat, not wanting to trade when Sam offered shotgun. Much of her anger had dissipated, but she was offended that Dean thought so little of himself. She wanted him to see what she saw. What scared her was that Dean really would put her or Sam before himself. And one day that would be it. He really was too good, because she was selfish and didn't want Dean to go.

They had driven most of the day and about 100 words had been exchanged, most of them from Sam. When they pulled into a convenience store, Abby slipped inside to pay for gas. She silently lifted the nozzle and selected the grade. Only the best for Baby. Dean returned from stretching his legs and watched her leaning against his car and talking. He couldn't hear from this distance but it made him smile to see his girls getting along.

"Hey," he announced his presence. She was replacing the hose.

"Hi." They watched their feet shuffling the ground for a minute. The tension was palpable.

"Abs, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled at you. You can take care of yourself." He watched her with pleading eyes, wanting to move past this so he could hold her again. After a moment she nodded and breathed, "okay." But there was something more bothering her than what he apologized for.

"You don't think your worth it." She took his hands and clasped them between her own, pressed her forehead to them. She wanted him to understand that she saw a man who was lovable beyond his faults. Someone who offered her something new. It hurt her that he didn't value himself above the "family business", than the dirt on his boots. So for now, she would love him enough for both of them. She realized with a start what she had admitted to herself. Jo was right. It kind of scared her: they hadn't been together a year. Shouldn't people be dating for years before saying those three words to one another? But she knew how she felt, whether or not they were moving too quickly. Abigail met Dean's green eyes. "I love you." Dean offered one of his rare special smiles and pressed their foreheads together. He had craved hearing that for a long time, but didn't realize until he actually heard it.

"Really?" he teased in a husky voice.

"Hmmm." She smiled and pressed her lips to his, gently.


	22. Chapter 22

Abigail was strapping on a pair of heels when Dean exited the bathroom. She was stunning in a red summer dress, black shoulder-length hair curled, red lipstick, open-toed wedges showing off the nail job she did earlier. Dean felt underdressed in his collared shirt. At least he had ditched the flannels for tonight. They tried to go on a real date at least once a week or between cases. Lately, they had been too caught up in the looming Apocalypse to go out.

"You're beautiful," he offered and she smiled shyly.

"I'll have him home by twelve," she said to Sam before they walked out. Dean opened the Impala door and closed it after she slid in. He had given Baby a detail earlier. Both his girls were looking fine and ready for a night on the town.

"You haven't told me where we're going," Abby prodded. Dean kept his lips closed, revealing nothing. They pulled up before a fine dining restaurant, which had overly-priced dishes, despite how delicious it was. Dessert was an apple pie a-la-mode, which was really more for Dean. Abigail enjoyed watching the delight on his face as he savored each bite. The band was lively this evening and she tugged him to the dance floor. He was reluctant, making excuses that he didn't know how to dance and that they were the only ones. "So?" she challenged, glint in her eye. His hand came to her waist, the other held her smaller one. Yes, they were the only two on the dance floor. Diners observed them with smiles and comments of how well the two seemed together. Older couples watched them and remembered when they were early lovers.

They swayed to the music, Dean spinning her occasionally. The band played for them, switching to a softer melody when they sensed a shift in atmosphere. Dean held her close. "Do you remember when we met and what song was playing?" she asked.

"Sure," he answered. The song they first danced to was seared in his memory. She smiled against him.

"It's crazy: I had no idea who you were when we met. But…" she didn't know how to finish the sentence. She felt like she had known him forever.

He knew what she was trying to say, and he had felt the same. There weren't many people Dean let get close-they could be counted on one hand- but she had quickly established herself as one of them. She had squeezed through his defenses undetected until she was standing directly before him and demanding his attention.

Abigail turned her face up and smiled. It gave him a better buzz than whiskey. He kissed her red lips. She tasted like wine. She was a puzzle that he was constantly trying to figure out. He didn't understand why or how she was a hunter-she was a damn good one, for sure, but she wasn't surly like most. She was a generally cheery person who saw good in the world and in others, something he had long ago stopped seeing or searching for. There were definitely times when she was serious and guarded. She didn't trust strangers easily. But Abigail seemed too good for hunting. Like Sam, she was too bright, too charming, too intelligent to waste her life doing this. But she loved helping others, which was why she had continued with hunting for so long, even before meeting the Winchesters. Dean did it because it was all he knew; she did it to make the world better. And because he did it. She would never say that out loud, but he knew it. And every time he thought about it, the fact made him guilty. But selfishly, he was glad, even if it put her in danger. He was glad she stayed because that meant she was not leaving. Abigail kept him alive when he was dead inside. She could do things that not even Sam could.

Dean laughed to remember his last encounter with the Ghostfacers. Those guys were morons, but they were good for a joke or two in hindsight. When he and Sam ran into them two months before Dean was drug to Hell, they were at a house that became haunted every four years on the twenty-ninth of February. One of the Ghostfacers, a baby-faced man named Spencer, was recording Dean as he searched the basement for the bomb shelter in which the ghost was keeping Sam and a kid called Corbett. Spencer had tried to get Dean to spill about his "two months left", inquiring if it was cancer. After being rudely shut down, he tried a different tactic. He prompted Dean if he had a girl-or a guy maybe. Dean didn't give a definitive answer, just shone his light into a corner.

"You do, don't you?" Spencer picked up on the nonverbal cues.

Dean tried to dismiss the conversation, "It's...complicated." But Spencer now had the stoic Dean Winchester sharing his emotions on camera. This was fantastic footage.

"How long have you two been together?"

"We are not together," Dean enunciated, "there is no girl. Why am I even talking to you?" he added as an afterthought.

"Hypothetically, if there was a girl, what would she look like? Is she pretty?"

"The most beautiful woman you'll ever see," was his gentle response as though visualising her in his mind. Spencer wondered if she was a real person or a figment of Dean's imagination.

"She sounds...nice-" in his mind, Spencer was wondering how a woman could get past Dean's surly demeanor- "Does she know about your situation, how you don't have much time left?"

Dean faced the camera, as if realizing what he was saying, and frowned. "You are not getting me to share my- problems on some- reality show," he growled (the cursing had to be censored out in the editing).

Looking back, there were plenty of times he was given hints from other people about how he felt; he was either too timid or too dull to catch on. Eventually, he did, but not without whisperings in his ear and prods in the back. But he did love Abigail. And ever since admitting that, he felt free. But there was now someone else he had an innate desire to protect. She could be used as leverage and that scared him. He didn't want anything to happen to her or Sam. They were his world and without either, the balance would be skewed and he would collapse.

Their relationship was steady, better than he ever dreamed any relationship being. The only problem was the no sex. In his mind, he had convinced himself that Abigail would be the best sex of his life. But he stifled those thoughts of her, knowing they would only make him crumble in his commitment. His respect for her was insurmountable but he couldn't help lusting. Some days were worse than others. More than a few times, he had almost cheated with a one-night fling. But the thought of tears in her eyes and look of betrayal kept him from saying yes and following girls out of bars. Instead, he paid his tab and drove straight to Abigail, who was often reading or asleep. She would roll over and smile when he crawled into bed.

"You're back early," she would mumble sleepily. Dean would press a kiss to her temple.

"I missed my girl." With a happy hum, she then curled against him and fell asleep.

Dean was drawn from the recesses of his mind when she said, "I love you, Winchester."

"I love you, too."


	23. Chapter 23

Over breakfast Abigail popped the question that had been on her mind for a while. "When we're finished here, do you think we could stop by to see my family?" she asked hesitantly. "It's not too far out of the way," she added quickly.

"Sweetheart, we can stay as long as you want." She offered a smile before tucking into her pancakes. That smile in itself was enough to make him want to stay with her family forever, so long as she smiled like that every day.

* * *

"Everyone is going to be here tonight. Sam, I am warning you now that my sister will try to flirt with you; I'll talk to her before it gets out of hand. My nephew is not allowed to hunt so he is going to have a lot of questions. My uncle can be a bit gruff but whatever happens, do not bring up politics with him. If Mom asks what you want to eat, do not say 'whatever' or 'it doesn't matter'." She rang the doorbell and stepped back. Dean shifted uncomfortably; he tugged at his clothes and ran a hand through his hair.

"Are you nervous?" He gave a very convincing bewildered look that communicated he was very much so.

"What? No, of course not."

She looped her arm through his. "Dean, they will love you. Stop worrying."

"Right, because I am meeting the family of my girlfriend, who happen to be hunters and they will undoubtedly think I am a bad influence on you, which I am—"

She was not able to respond for at that moment the door swung open and a tall, rather round lady reached out and caught Abigail into a bone crushing hug. She ushered them into the house and called, "Abby's here! And she brought some men with her!"

There was a thunderous racket and a dog raced down the stairs, followed closely by a young boy. Soon the entire family was assembled and hugging and kissing their daughter. Sam and Dean stood awkwardly in the entry. All of the family emotions being felt were a bit overwhelming for the hunters. A kindly-looking woman who was introduced as Abby's mother caught sight of them.

"Are these gentlemen who I think they are?"

"Everyone, this is my boyfriend, Dean, and his brother, Sam," she pulled them into the circle of attention. They smiled at the Lucero family, who stood quiet for a moment before greeting them with just as much enthusiasm. There was Mr. and Mrs. Lucero, Abby's nephew Anthony, her older sister Marcela-who was the one to open the door- her uncle, her grandparents and the black Labrador named Scooter.

"I know where she gets her looks," Dean smiled charmingly and Abigail's mother clasped a hand over her chest.

"Aren't you sweet!" She kissed both his cheeks, then turned to Sam and pulled his face down to her height. Abigail did not get her height from her mother, that was for sure. It was from her father, who stood eye level with Dean. He shook his girlfriend's father's hand and held his gaze. He couldn't tell what was going through the man's mind but Dean found himself wanting his approval.

Mrs. Lucero led the boys on a tour of the house, Abigail trodding along. "I'm sorry, we only have one guest room. We can make up the couch for somebody-"

"Mom, Dean can stay in my room. If that's alright," she added hastily, seeing her parents' reactions. "We share a bed anyways. It helps me sleep better-"

"I'm fine on the couch," Dean interjected upon the sight on her father's face. _And I'll stop sharing a bed with her if that's what you want_ , he wanted to say.

"You know what, why don't we settle this later," Abigail cheerily took her father's and her mother's arms and led them to the kitchen.

After dinner (Sam and Dean hadn't eaten that much in a long time, which was saying something, and there were still leftovers. Mrs. Lucero kept lamenting how thin the boys were and adding more food to their plates. When learning that they hadn't had a home cooked meal in months, she nearly fainted and made it her mission to show them how food was supposed to taste. Even Dean eventually had to turn her down lest his stomach burst. He was envious of Abigail, who grew up with this cooking.) the family gathered around the table to play cards. "Are you any good?" Mr. Lucero asked the Winchesters while shuffling the deck.

"Dean is the best player I know," Sam spoke up fondly of his brother.

"Sammy here hustled a witch in a game of poker," Dean one-upped. Anthony begged for the full story. Sam modestly explained how he played to win Dean back the fifty years he lost playing for Bobby who lost twenty-five years. Everyone was impressed. This opened up conversation to old hunting stories being exchanged until late into the night. Abigail's grandparents and tio went home about ten in the evening, leaving the immediate family. Approaching midnight, Mrs. Lucero glanced at her watch.

"It is way past my bedtime. You young kids can stay up as late as you want, but we old farts are going to bed." She and Mr. Lucero stood and with a kiss to their daughters, ascended the stairs.

Abigail, too, yawned and stretched, purposely flopping into her sister's lap.

"I'm going to bed, too."

"Get off me," Marcela groaned, tossing her away, which quickly escalated into a wrestling match on the couch. Sam and Dean watched with smiles, remembering their days of tackling one another. And to see Abigail in a safe environment where she was truly comfortable was something neither brother had seen before. They had witnessed her with Jo and Ellen, but now, with her family, they saw how happy she was. Dean began to understand that the way someone is raised can impact their outlook on life. Abigail grew up in a supportive, loving, whole family, and she really was the most optimistic person he knew.

Sam helped carry Anthony to the car (he had passed out long ago, no doubt dreaming of the hunts he had listened to). Marcela and Abby talked for a few minutes before the elder sister took her leave.

"Thanks, Sam," Abigail said as he came back inside.

"No problem. He's a cool kid. Where's the father, if it's okay for me to ask?"

"He left and never came back." She shrugged. "Marcela loves him and that's all that matters. We all do." Sam nodded, having heard enough.

"So, am I sleeping on the couch?" Dean spoke up, encircling her from behind. She gave him a pitiful look.

"It is so uncomfortable, you would be better off on the floor. Um… if you two don't mind, you can share the guest bed. It's a queen size." The brothers shared a glance. Neither were thrilled with the idea. Dean was even willing to take her up on the offer of the floor. But with smooth talking and a kiss or two for Dean, she convinced them that it would not be the end of the world. "One person goes under the blankets and the other sleeps on top." Dean walked her to her bedroom door, where they stood talking in whispers.

"It's almost like we're normal and I'm dropping you on the front porch," he commented. She looped her arms around his neck.

"Yeah, but I like the arrangement we have." She pecked his lips. "Goodnight."

"'Night." She slipped into her room and closed the door.

It was strange to not only be in her own room again, but to be alone. For a long time, she had always had at least Dean in the same room, if not Sam too. Now she was lying in a bed that seemed to big, staring at a sunset painting on the wall. But she focused on being home again and with childhood memories in mind, soon fell asleep.

* * *

The next morning at breakfast, Mrs. Lucero asked, "How did everybody sleep?"

Not one for sugarcoating, Dean grouched, "Awful. Sam kept hogging the covers. I was freezing!"

"Yeah, how about you try keeping to your side of the bed. You tried to cuddle with me! Honestly, Abby, I don't know how you put up with that."

"Snorer."

"Drooler."

"You fart in your sleep."

"You scratch yourself-"

"Hey! That's enough!" Abigail waved her hands between them. "Dad, I am a grown woman and I promise we don't have sex and we won't start in your house. So would it be okay if Dean stays in my room?" Dean's face brightened at her blunt statement. It shouldn't bother him but he found himself slightly embarrassed nonetheless. After a few minutes of contemplation and squinting at Dean, her dad sighed and conceded.

* * *

Sam and Dean stayed home while Abigail, Marcela and their mother went for a girls day out. They returned laden with shopping bags, manicures and pedicures. Then there came the fashion show. Dean enjoyed the dress, until he saw how good she looked in the jeans. And when she came out in a pink two-piece swimsuit, carrying a shotgun, he stopped breathing.

"You planning on swimming?"

She shrugged. "It was on sale." He nodded, not sure what to say or what would come out of his mouth if he opened it. She noticed and put one hand on her hip, the other holding the gun.

"Something wrong?" she asked innocently. Dean tried to find a quick remark but failed. He opened his mouth, tilted his head, closed it. She strutted closer, taking her time. With each step, her hips swayed. His hands came up to grip her waist and pull her down.

"You look absolutely deadly," he purred. He trailed kisses along her collar bone. Her fingers tangled in his hair. A sigh escaped her lips. Before he could continue, she braced her hands on his chest.

"We can't." He knew what she meant and it took all his willpower to detach himself from her. He imagined how her father would react to walk in on this. "I'm glad to know you approve," she smirked. Dean was thinking that he might need to get a swimsuit of his own.

After she had put on some clothes, she sat in the backyard with her mom, sipping lemonade. Dean was grabbing a beer from the cooler he and Sam brought when Mr. Lucero entered the kitchen. The two shared a few words.

"How old are you?"

Dean swallowed. "I'm twenty-nine." He expected her father to disapprove of the age difference. To his surprise, he nodded.

"Old enough to have somewhat of a level head on that body. Have thoughts of settling down." After looking him over, he continued, "I like you a lot better than the last boyfriend she brought home. He didn't know the first thing about guns; barely knew which end to point away from himself."

"Sounds like a moron. Did she meet him in college?"

"She never told you?"

"Told me what?"

"I understand why she would be reluctant to. That boy… Arnold was his name- was a bad influence. While they were dating, she didn't want to go out with friends, her grades dipped a little. He completely stamped out her independence. She lost it a bit after that boy broke up with her. As crazy as it sounds, getting back into the Hunt helped to pull her out of that funk. Maybe it was having something to occupy her mind, or saving people, or just using the monsters as punching bags to get her anger out. Whatever it was, though, I'm glad it worked; even if she is back hunting again. Since then she has been wary of opening herself up to strangers because she's afraid of relationships ending in a similar way."

Dean looked over to her sitting on the back porch with her mother.

"Sir, I love your daughter. I would never do anything like that. She is strong willed and independent and if she wakes up tomorrow morning and wants to leave I would let her walk away."

"You're a good man, Dean," he clapped the younger man on the shoulder, "and you'll protect her with your life, I know." He stared Dean dead in the eye when saying the last part, almost like a warning. If he didn't protect her-physically and emotionally- there would be consequences.

That evening, while preparing for bed, Dean propped his chin on her shoulder. "Your dad told me about Arnold." She rubbed one arm absently, suddenly overcome with goosebumps.

"I don't like talking about it. He was a waste of my time and I lost who I was for a while. Please don't be mad that I didn't tell you."

He was acutely aware of her discomfort. He wanted to know more. Dean had a desire to know everything about her but did not want to scare her by coming on too strong. So he had long ago resigned himself to gathering bits of intel at odd moments. He pulled her head to his shoulder. "I'm not mad. I just want us to be honest with each other. Deal?"

"Deal. So tell me something about you I don't know." She seemed too eager to change the subject but Dean let it slide. He thought for a few minutes.

"My first girlfriend was a pretty blond girl I met at a 'foster home' for troubled boys. She asked me to the school dance. But that night, my dad came to pick me up. I almost stayed at the farm, until I saw little Sammy in the backseat. I knew I couldn't leave him; Dad wouldn't know how to take care of him."

* * *

Too quickly, their visit was over. Abigail's mom was teary-eyed and pulled her daughter into a final hug. "I don't want you to go."

She laughed good-naturedly. "I'll see you soon, Mom."

"I'm worried for you. And I'll miss you. Promise me you will be safe. No stupid things, on hunts or otherwise."

"I swear."

Mr. Lucero held out his hand to Dean. "Take care of my daughter."

"Yes sir. Though she can take pretty good care of herself." He shook hands with Sam. Both boys were drawn in for hugs and kisses by Mrs. Lucero. Sam was given a particularly large hug by Marcela, who was prepared to send him off with a kiss, as well, until Abby saved him, though Dean was disappointed, for he would have enjoyed watching Sam flounder.

When they were settled into the Impala and giving last waves to the Lucero family standing at the front gate, Sam grinned, "I love your family."


	24. Chapter 24

It was a massive hunt: dozens of demons, many of Lucifer's personal servants, setting up camp in a small mining town along the Montana/Wyoming border. They were preparing the town for the Devil's arrival and Castiel, Ellen, Jo, Sam, Dean and Abigail had purged it of supernatural evil. After the hunt they all returned to Bobby's house. Everyone was exhausted and collapsed onto couches and beds or slid under a hot shower. Each hunter slept at least twelve hours straight. During that time not a single soul stirred. Jo was on a cot; Ellen on the sofa; Bobby in his room; Dean and Abby in their shared room; Sam in the other guest room; Castiel sat at the table because angels do not partake in the activity of slumber. Though, by the others' enthusiasm, he wanted to know what sleep was like and laid on the floor for several hours trying to fall asleep.

It took time for everyone to drag themselves awake and into the kitchen for a cup of coffee. Or two. Dean and Ellen whipped up stacks of pancakes and eggs, all of which were devoured. Abigail pushed her plate away and wiped her mouth with a napkin. Gaze settling on the calendar on Bobby's fridge she stood to examine it closer. "Today is Thanksgiving," she announced. The others looked up in surprise. They had quite frankly forgotten.

"We should have a celebration," Jo spoke up. Abby immediately sparked at the idea. Dean knew that if Abigail wanted to, they were going to have a Thanksgiving dinner. Bobby shrugged in consent. She pulled open the fridge and freezer at the same time and peered at the contents.

"We'll need to go to the store."

Jo, Ellen and Abigail were busy in the kitchen flitting every direction and doing everything at once. They had to make do with what was on hand and with what little the grocery store could provide. Instead of a turkey or a ham, the main dish was lasagna; Abby made her family's calabacita recipe with canned corn, frozen squash from the garden and canned green chile (which she mourned, claiming it was not the same as fresh chile); Sam was set to work mashing potatoes while Dean made a run to the liquor store for beer and wine. During that time Abigail and Jo prepared pumpkin and pecan pies and Abby made a small cherry pie just for Dean. He could smell them in the oven but was barricaded from even taking the smallest peek. Under Bobby's supervision, Sam drug spare seating out of storage along with a table cloth-probably the only unsoiled white thing in Bobby's house.

There was a moment after Ellen set the last dish on the table and pulled her chair in that every person simply took in the wonderful compilation before them. The smells, the sights and above the table the faces of family. This meal that was put together at such a late notice in a few hours, yet still had the capacity to bring people together.

Sam stood, glass in hand, and cleared his throat before announcing, "a toast. To the hands that made this food-" he nodded at those in mention- "and to family. It's true that family doesn't end in blood. I look around and I am related to only one other person; but in my heart this is where we all belong: together."

"Amen to that, Sammy." Dean raised his glass of wine, the others following suit.

After dinner and cleaning dishes everyone gathered in the living room, drinking and talking. Jo and Abby tried to convince everyone to play strip poker, to which Bobby motioned at his wheelchair and demanded how he would take off more than his hat and shirt, to which Ellen commented nobody wanted to see that. So they settled on Texas holdem, an old joke between the Winchester boys and Bobby.

"I'm going to bed," Abigail stood up and stretched, "I am exhausted."

"Get some good shut eye-you deserve it," Dean answered. She pecked him on the lips then turned to the others. Ellen stood and embraced her, gave her a motherly kiss on the cheek and thanked her for all her work, both on the hunt and in the kitchen. Jo was waiting with open arms and typical heart only expressed to those close to her. Bobby supplied a quick hug and scratchy kiss to the cheek; Sam had a simple goodnight and hug; Castiel provided an awkward hug when she approached him. When they were settled once more and heard the soft click of the door, Ellen turned to Dean with her knowing smile.

"She is something else. When are you going to propose, Dean?"

"I keep wondering the same thing," Bobby muttered.

"He has a ring," Sam said before Dean opened his mouth, "but he's too afraid to get down on one knee."

"I am waiting for the right moment," Dean protested, "and I am not 'afraid', thank you very much." Interest was now piqued considerably.

"Do you have it now?" Jo asked. Dean was surprised-though he should have expected it, with the direction of conversation- while Sam nodded. Begrudgingly he removed a box from his pocket and passed it around.

"Where did this come from?"

Sam had offered him the ring he was going to use in proposing to Jessica. Dean had hesitated, not feeling comfortable with giving off the ring intended for Sam's deceased girlfriend. But Sam insisted he at least take a look. Through all these years, how he had managed to keep it was a mystery. It was dazzling, but not what Dean had in mind. The last time they were near New York, Dean had peeled off to Buffalo to John's storage shed. In a box he found the perfect ring he had been searching for. Dean had been very particular in the center jewel, not wanting it to be too large and snag on something; especially considering their profession. A very thin band, with one light opal cresting the top. It had belonged to his mother, the ring that he had known he would give to his future wife since he was nine years old. Diamonds were beautiful, but they were clear. What he loved about the white opal, however, were the pale colors. He wanted something that reflected and reminded him of Abigail's multiple aspects and this jewel did that. He didn't want something superficial and monocolor. The paleness reminded him of the overwhelming sense of purity she exuded. It seemed fitting his mother's ring would continue to live on the finger of a Winchester wife.

"If that doesn't seal the deal then I don't know what will," Bobby passed it to Jo after holding it to the light.

"Incredible, this opal is rare, found only in a specific region of South America," Castiel noted while scrutinizing the jewel.

"Alright, alright," Dean gingerly took the ring back and replaced it in his pocket.

Ellen leaned forward. "Dean, look at me. She loves you. There is nothing to be afraid of. And you'll never know her answer won't be no unless you ask. I think she is waiting for you to pop the question."

"Are you guys going to arrange my proposal, too? I don't want to talk about this any longer."

Ellen threw her hands up in surrender. "I'm done. But remember that there may not be a tomorrow." Dean nodded solemnly and took a swig, then looked in the direction of the room Abigail was sleeping in. The gears in his head were cycling around Ellen's last comment. It was true: there was a very likely chance tomorrow would not come.

* * *

Dean was finessing a slice of pie when Sam entered the kitchen to retrieve another round of beers for everyone. Sam felt someone at his shoulder and passed the can of whipped cream, then continued rummaging for beers.  
Dean took a bite of pie and asked, "You really think I should?" Sam straightened, looked at his brother, rubbed a hand over his face.

"Man, normally I would say hold off. This life is tough. And you've only been together about a year." He shrugged and one side of his lip curled up. "But I think that's long enough. Yeah, there are dangers to getting attached but she's good for you, Dean. And you make her happy. So I say do it." Hearing those words of affirmation from Sam hardened Dean's resolve. He had no idea what to expect around the corner and he might regret it later or someone might get hurt, but he was going to ask Abigail to marry him.


	25. Chapter 25

Abigail was waiting on a bench for Dean and Cas to return. She was still recovering from being forced through TV land by the Trickster, who so conveniently happened to be Gabriel, the archangel. Sam had been right to "play their roles". But something had bothered her since getting free. In nearly all of the roles, she was on the sideline or acting as a minor character. Not that she wanted the spotlight: but when the boys needed her help, nothing could she do. For instance, in the Nutcracker, she was one of the girls giggling and prancing around in barely any clothes. She was not able to get close enough to help either Winchester and instead watched their pain until the next scene.

The only time she had a true role was in playing cop-and-robbers. She had been in hot pursuit of a suspect when he led her into an ambush. Dean was too far behind to be of any help. When he reached her, a knife was buried in her abdomen, blood leaking everywhere. He dropped, shaking, and clutched at her, not sure where to hold but at the same time grasping every inch of skin or clothing he could reach.

"Abby, baby, you're fine. Look, it's nothing…" he was muttering and tried to staunch the bleeding. She thought she should be feeling weak; the pain was certainly real. Hating herself, she knew what she needed to do. Lifting a hand, she caressed his face, smiled and went limp. He caught her hand and pressed it to his stubbled cheek, willing the life back to her. His cry wrenched her heart. But she was not really dead, just the officer she was playing. Not quickly enough, the scene had changed and she opened her eyes to Dean's stunned and livid features. The knife and blood were gone. He wrenched her into his arms.

"It's okay, I'm okay," she whispered. "Play our parts, remember?" But the tears on his face were too much. Kissing them away gently, trying to hold him together, Abigail waited until Dean was in some state of calm. His brokenness was not something she was eager to experience again.

A flutter, like a cloak swishing. When she looked over, Zachariah calmly sat beside her. One foot rested against the opposite knee.

"What do you want?" she growled.

"The trees are beginning to change color. It is beautiful," he spoke pleasantly while observing their surroundings. She crossed her arms. No point in pushing; he would talk soon enough. This angel liked the sound of his own voice too much. Eventually, Zachariah faced her. "You do not have a role in this war. Your presence is a distraction."

"Do you think I care about your opinion?" she scoffed.

"You stay and try to postpone the inevitable but Sam and Dean will say yes."

"No, they won't." But hidden in the dark recesses of her soul were fears that either boy would submit to the angels' will.

Zachariah observed her, like he was not used to defiance. "There is nothing for you in this plan."

"I don't care whether or not some role was cast for me at the beginning of the universe. I am not leaving. My job here is to protect them." She gripped the back of the bench and leaned forward, until their noses were inches apart. "What are you going to do? Kill me and you lose any possibility of Dean saying yes. If you kidnap me I swear I will kill myself just so I can't be used as leverage. So go ahead and do whatever it is you were doing." She leaned back, smug smirk fighting dominance on her face. Zachariah's neck and face were purple with fury. Without a word he vanished in the twitch of a muscle.

It wasn't much, but it felt good to win against an angel.


	26. Chapter 26

_If I could make a wish_

 _I think I'd pass_

 _Can't think of anything I need_

 _No cigarettes, no sleep, no light, no sound_

 _Nothing to eat, no books to read_

 _Making love with you_

 _Has left me peaceful warm and tired_

 _What more could I ask_

 _There's nothing left to be desired_

 _Peace came upon me and it leaves me weak_

 _So sleep, silent angel go to sleep_

 _Sometimes all I need is the air that I breathe_

 _And to love you_

 _All I need is the air that I breathe_

 _Yes to love you_

 _All I need is the air that I breathe_

 _The Air that I Breathe by The Hollies_

Dean was brushing his teeth when Abigail entered the bathroom and began washing her face. He stared at her in the mirror, miles deep in thought. Spitting, he left, then came back a minute later and leaned against the door frame, simply watching her. There was no more time, no longer he could wait or he was afraid he would change his mind. "Abby," he drew her attention. The simplicity of her image was stunning and she seemed even more beautiful: pajamas, messy hair, toothbrush hanging from her mouth. He swallowed and continued, "I love you. And…" Dean was admittedly a man of few words, which was currently visible as he fumbled for what he desired to say. So he let his actions speak what his mouth could not. Lowering himself onto one knee, he produced the black box and held it towards her, opened the lid, watched her reaction. It was not exactly as he had imagined, for upon seeing the ring in his hands, she choked on toothpaste. Hacking, Abigail managed to spit the rest out and wipe her mouth. Dean was embarrassed, already not comfortable with putting his emotions in a place of vulnerability, he had now caused the woman to whom he was proposing to gag. But despite his reddening neck and ears, he stayed on the floor, eyes begging her to say yes.

Abigail was dumbstruck. Once she had recovered she took another look, verifying that what she saw was real. With a smile that transcended his worries, she nodded vigorously. "Yes, of course, hell yes," she repeated while dropping to her knees before Dean. She scarcely gave him time to slide the ring onto her finger before attacking him with kisses. She did not realize she was crying until she wondered why Dean's lips tasted like salt. He reached behind her for a tissue and wiped her eyes.

"Don't tell me you're crying because you just made the wrong decision," he teased in a voice more husky than normal.

"Not at all. I love you, Dean Winchester." He loved when she said that.

* * *

Sam entered the room and was startled by a squealing mass hurdled into his arms. Fortunately for Abigail, his reflexes were able to catch her before she bounced off the brick wall he called his body and smacked into the floor. Unfortunately for his ears, her squeal issued from beside his head.

"Sammy, we're engaged!" For the briefest of seconds, he was confused, wondering how the two of them could be engaged. Then he understood. He spun her in a circle, nearly as giddy as her. When he sat her down and kissed her cheek, Abby proudly displayed the ring, angling her hand so the jewel would capture the light. Sam met his brother's eyes over her head. Dean was grinning as much as he ever remembered. He clasped him in a tight hug. In the English language, there were no words appropriate to describe how he felt, or at least none that he knew of. But Sam tried anyway.

"I am so, so happy for you two! It's about time, Dean!" Dean waved the comment away and took a drink of his beer. "Wait a minute." Sam exited the room and returned with a bottle of champagne in hand. "I was beginning to wonder if I would ever have the chance to pull this out." Three cups were filled and Sam lifted his drink. "To a long and happy marriage." Dean pulled Abigail closer to his side while he lifted his own then took a sip. At least for tonight, everything was right with the world.

There was too much energy to stay in the room; not to mention that Dean and Abigail wanted some alone time. Throwing on coats, they skipped from the motel. And Dean doesn't skip. He drove mindlessly, not sure where he was going, until Baby pulled off the main road and stopped a few minutes later in a large clearing. Of course his girl would know the right place to be right now. Dean scurried around the car and opened Abigail's door with a bow.

The radio was humming and she paused, glint in her eye. Grasping his hand, she led him farther into the clearing, where the headlights bounced across them, splashing shadows against the far trees. It was not a song Dean particularly enjoyed, but right now, it was sounding very good. He spun her, in her pajama shorts and flats, and she laughed.

Abigail didn't think it was possible to feel this elated; any second, her heart would give out. Dean laughed and a shiver ran down her spine. It was such a good sound. Not to mention the way his face glowed when he smiled; even in the poor light, it was unmistakable. They swayed gently until Dean twisted her in his arms. With her back against his chest and arms around her, they gazed at the stars. The sky was particularly luminous tonight. She turned to smile widely at him. "I love you." He returned the grin and kissed her deeply. His answer was lost in the space between their lips.


End file.
